Staying Alive
by MsWriterTee
Summary: When Det. Joss Carter is shot and presumed dead, John Reese takes off to deal with his pain. Following Joss's funeral, Harold Finch receives a call and learns that Joss is alive, but in an extremely perilous condition. Desperate to save Joss and by extension, John, Harold searches for and finds the one person he believes can help him.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This story is a direct follow-up to "The Crossing" episode of Person of Interest. That episode was heartbreaking, and more than that, I couldn't believe it was how TPTB decided to end the incredible dynamic between CaReese. It was so much left unsaid. This story, Staying Alive, is my idea of how things could have been done differently. It is an Alternate Universe, crossover story involving a duo from the now defunct All My Children, that I felt never got the great story they deserved.**

* * *

Harold Finch watched John Reese, a man he'd seen single-handedly fight off half a dozen men, crumble in despair as he held on to the motionless body of Detective Jocelyn Carter, who had just taken a bullet and saved him from certain death. "Mr. Reese," Harold said, trying to wrench John's bloody hands away from the motionless Joss. "Mr. Reese! John, we have to go. Help is coming for her." Finch took a few steps down the street, hoping that John would follow as sirens grew closer. Joss was strong, a fighter, he had to believe she would be all right, regardless of how bad it looked.

"It's too late, Harold!" John shouted over his shoulder. "I'm too late." John kissed Joss's forehead. "I'm sorry I failed you, Joss, but I love you." He sobbed against her. "I love you."

Harold released a deep breath he didn't know he'd been holding after listening to John's heartfelt confession. He'd heard the two in the morgue talking, sharing, and kissing, and he had felt terrible having overheard. He had never doubted that John had feelings stronger than friendship for the detective, but he never knew how deep they actually were until this moment. Hobbling over to the decimated John, Harold grabbed his arm and found strength he didn't know he had to drag the injured man away. "John, Joss will be okay, but if you're found here you won't be. You've already been shot twice. Please, come with me."

"Do you really believe leaving will make me okay? That my life will actually mean something if law enforcement doesn't find me here? That all will be great if I manage to live?" John turned to look at Joss, tears streamed down his faces. "Harold, I'm never going to be okay again. And nothing you or I do or say will change that." John hung his head and walked away.

* * *

The week that followed, three things happened: John slipped out of the safe house where he had been receiving much-needed medical attention and disappeared to parts unknown, Harold attended the heartbreaking funeral of Detective Jocelyn Carter, and he received an unexpected telephone call from Dr. Farooq Madan, a former surgeon who had been working in the city morgue. After John had been shot by Agent Snow's sniper, Harold had rushed him to the doctor. Madan, unable to afford a license to practice medicine in the U.S., had worked on John when Harold provided him $150,000 and got the doctor's word that he would never tell a soul about what he was about to do.

Harold hadn't heard from the doctor since that night almost two years ago, so the call came as quite a surprise. He did however agree to meet with the doctor in the basement of Mount Sinai Hospital. The next afternoon, he arrived at the basement. Old desks and chairs littered the hall of what had to be the storage section, overwhelming the usual antiseptic hospital smell with a musty one. After making his way through the obstacles course of office furniture, he spotted the man standing outside a door.

"Mr. Harold?" said Dr. Madan, extending his hand.

"Yes, Doctor." Harold accepted his handshake. "Why is it you called me?"

"Actually, I had been looking for the gentleman that I 'stitched up' for you. John?"

Harold watched the man suspiciously. "Why are you looking for Mr. Reese?" he asked.

"About two weeks after I helped him, he came to see me. He asked a favor of me. Do you know how I might be able to contact him?"

If Harold knew the answer to that, it would help bring an end to his sleepless nights. He worried John was in some dark alley bleeding to death. He'd never see him so lost. Even when he first met the sad man John was, behind the misery in his eyes, he saw a spark. He only had to reach in to bring it out of the darkness it flickered behind. Somehow, he managed to do that, but he knew the beautiful Detective Carter had a big hand in getting John to walk in the light. Now, Joss was gone, and he knew wherever John was, even with a beating heart, he was dead, too.

"Mr. Reese is incommunicado right now," said Harold. "Maybe I can help with whatever this is."

The doctor nodded. "Maybe you can." Madan opened the door he stood before. "Come with me."

Upon entering the room, Harold realized it wasn't used for storage, but as a patient room. "Should I be here?"

"Yes, you should," the doctor answered without missing a step.

Harold followed the doctor as he approached a younger man standing inside the room. "Any changes?"

The younger man shook his head. "No, Doctor."

"Thank you."

The younger man left and Dr. Madan gave all of his attention to Harold. "As I said, John came to see me about two weeks after I'd helped him, and he wanted me to provide the same services to someone he thought might need to have private medical attention. A detective." The doctor reached into the pocket of his white lab coat and produced a wallet-size photo. "This is the person he wanted me to help," Madan said, extending the picture to Harold.

"Detective Carter," Harold said, staring at the photo of the detective in her rookie uniform.

"Eight days ago, this detective was brought to the hospital. She had been shot and her condition was dire. I was the surgeon on-call in the ER that evening, and when I saw her, I remembered what John had said. Hearing that she was shot by an officer who was still on the loose made me certain that I had to protect her and contact John."

"Protect her?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes," he said, moving the machines monitoring the patient a few feet to the side and made his way to the head of the bed.

Harold followed Dr. Madan and then stopped in his tracks, almost losing his balance. "Detective Carter?"

"She is comatose and we lost her three times during surgery, not to mention her being revived en route to the hospital twice, but she is still with us. I tried to call John, but he never answered, so I called you. Did I make the right decision?"

The thumping in his ears made it impossible for Harold to hear what the doctor had said. The heart monitor showed a squiggly line that meant Joss was alive. He went to her funeral. He felt her loss daily, but, yet, she was alive.

"Mr. Harold, did I make the right decision to tell you?" the doctor repeated.

"What?" A moment passed and Harold shook his head. "Yes, you did the right thing by telling me."

"I have done all I can for her, but sadly it has been of little use."

"She's alive. You did your job perfectly," Harold said to the man, coming forward and taking Joss's small hand in his. "You will be all right, Detective."

"I wish I could say your words were accurate, Mr. Harold."

"Please, just Harold."

"She has been in this coma from the moment she came out of surgery. She was down for several minutes, and we fear if she does manage to wake up, she will not be the same."

Tears filled Harold's eyes. "Are you saying she's brain damaged?" he asked, his eyes never leaving Joss.

"Possibly. She has brain wave function, but four minutes is a long time to deprive the brain of oxygen."

Harold did his best to ignore the doctor's words. He had billions of dollars, but he could count the friends he had on one hand. Joss was a friend. John was a friend. He had to help her. He had to help them. "I will have her transferred." Harold turned his attention to the doctor. "Are you and the other gentleman the only ones who know about her?"

Madan nodded. "Yes. He is an intern. My nephew. He can be trusted."

"Good. I will send a van for her. I need to know of whatever equipment she'll need, and I would appreciate it if you help her get settled once she is relocated."

"Of course, I'll be happy to help, but I cannot tell you how much good it will do. Her chest wound was extensive, but she is actually recovering nicely from that gunshot, which is a good sign, but everything else…"

Harold glared at the doctor. "Joss is alive. That's what matters."

"She is living, but she is not alive. I gleaned from John that she is important to him, I wanted him to be able to say good-bye."

"He's already done that," Harold whispered. "I will pay you handsomely for your time."

"You don't need to do that."

"Yes, I do. I would like to purchase your time and your skill for an additional week or two. You will need to be available to her on a twenty-four hour basis. I'm agreeable with you allowing your nephew to be of help. You know her case. I trust you to continue to give her the best care you can. In the meantime, I will do what I can to find a doctor who can help her get beyond this point. A doctor who can make her alive again. To make her Joss again."

"I wish you luck, Harold."

"Thank you," Harold said, limping to the door as fast as he could. He knew without a doubt he would need a lot of luck to make this happen. But happen it must.

* * *

After eleven days, Harold had managed to find the one doctor he felt could give Joss her life back, and by extension John back his heart. He didn't care what it cost or what he had to do to make it happen, which was quite a lot considering the doctor in question had been married a week before and was on a private island with his new bride. Harold had offered the owner of a helicopter who lived off the coast of a nearby island one hundred thousand dollars to fly to where the doctor and his bride were located, and then deliver a phone. At which time, Harold would convince the doctor and his bride to come to New York. Considering the unhappy reception the pilot received when he landed on the private island, a reaction Harold overheard via the cell being set to speaker, the doctor was none too pleased about the interruption.

"_What are you doing here?"_ The doctor shouted. _"This is a private island, the operative word being 'private'!"_

"_There call, sir,"_ the pilot said in his broken English.

"_It's not 'sir,' it's doctor. And I have a phone, one that will ring when a family member needs to reach my wife and myself." _

"Doctor! Doctor, please, let me explain," Harold said from the phone. "Please."

"_Who the hell is that?"_

Harold wished he could see the pilot's reaction, but since he couldn't he decided to reply. "My name is Harold Finch, and I'm calling from New York City. I am sorry to interrupt your honeymoon, but I am calling with an emergency."

"_I don't know you, so how can it be an emergency?"_

"_Let him talk,"_ said a woman's voice.

"_This is our honeymoon, Angela."_

"_I know that, David. But this man went through quite a lot to talk to you. The least you can do is hear him out."_

"_Fine," _David answered. _"What is it?"_

"Dr. Hayward, I…"

"_Technically, it's not doctor anymore. My wife is a doctor, but..."_

"I know all about you and your license. I know all about Project Orpheus, and the miraculous things you've done for some of the people of Pine Valley, Pennsylvania, as well as for your wife when she lost her vision. I know that you've been devastated by the loss of children, but blessed by finding out about your son, Oliver, and falling in love with and marrying your bride. I know it all."

David remained silent for several minutes. "How do you know all of this?" he asked.

"I have my ways."

"Finch, what do you want from me?"

"What you've always done, Doctor. I want you to save a life. I promise to make it worth your while."

* * *

**AN: ****Dr. Farooq Madan appeared in the episode entitled 'Super' from Season One of POI.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Person of Interest or All My Children. This story is for entertainment purposes only.**

* * *

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," David said, tossing his clothing in the open suitcase on the bed. He couldn't believe their two-week honeymoon excursion had turned into a six-day getaway. "I wanted us to spend our honeymoon away from everything and everyone, and what happens? Some man finds us and summons me to New York."

Angie shook her head as she more carefully placed her things into the suitcase. "He didn't summon you; he requested your help with a dear friend. It's the right thing to do, David."

"That's another reason why I'm shocked that I'm packing. Am I not the one that ninety-nine percent of Pine Valley believes is incapable of doing the right thing? If I'm mistaken, let me know."

"You got me to marry you, I think that's a right thing you've done. Unless, of course, all those sweet words you were saying to me in front of that judge a week ago and in this bed for last six days have been a bunch of lies."

David dropped the shirt in his hands into the open case, and walked around the bed to Angie, closing his arms around her waist. "Not at all. You, Dr. Angela Baxter Hubbard Hubbard Harrison Foster Hubbard Hayward," he said with a little laugh when Angie rolled her eyes, "are the love of my life. Any goodness I've managed to achieve is because of you. I love you." Brushing his finger against the tiny mole on her caramel colored chin, David cupped her cheek and claimed her full lips in a kiss.

With the brush of his tongue to her lips, Angie pressed her hands to his chest and backed away. "Oh, no," she said. "We don't have time for that."

"There is always time for this," David said, catching her arm and bringing her close, his fingers deftly moving to the buttons of her blouse.

Angie ducked under his arm and moved back to the bed, packing. "We need to help this detective. There will be plenty of time for lovemaking later. The pilot is outside waiting for us."

"Ever the conscientious one, aren't you?" David moved back to the other side of the bed and continued packing. "This Finch, he's a bit…"

"Eccentric?" Angie offered.

"I was thinking weird or maybe a bit of a criminal genius."

Angie chuckled. "Criminal genius? Reminds me of someone I married a week ago."

"Seriously, Angie, this man knew all about me and our relationship." David tossed the last of his things into the suitcase. "How the hell did he know that?"

"I guess the same way he managed to find us when we told no one of our plans." Angie placed her makeup bag on top of the clothes and zipped the case. "He's a man who can get things done, and I know you'll be able to help Det. Carter."

"I'll do the best I can. I'll know if it will be enough when we get there." David grabbed the bag and opened the door to the suite of their island paradise. "It's back to the real world."

* * *

John turned up the second of the three one liter bottles of Jack Daniel's he'd purchased from the liquor store on the corner from his new room. He'd forgotten what city and state he was in, but he made sure wherever he called home had a liquor store within walking distance. He tossed the empty bottle to the back corner with the other, and pulled out the last bottle from his coat pocket. Twisting open the cap, he took several big guzzles, and with shaky hands, returned the cap to the bottle and hugged it to his chest, laying his head on the floor. He wished he could stop hearing her voice. She wouldn't stop haunting him. _"If anything happens to you, I swear, I'll hate you forever." _

He laughed until he started crying, which was never more than thirty seconds. "I don't want to hate you, Joss," he slurred through his tears. "Why did you leave me, too? Why did you leave me?" John sobbed openly on the floor, continuing to hold on to the one thing that wouldn't leave him. His whiskey bottle.

* * *

"Joss? Joss?" Harold sighed as he held on to her hand. "You take your time, Detective. I know you're still in there. I know it. You're going to come back. I promise."

Harold's voice seemed so far away, yet Joss could feel a hand on hers. She could hear and she felt pain, but she couldn't move, or talk, or open her eyes, or cry. She tried, but everything felt so heavy, her head so foggy, so achy. A virtual prisoner in her own body. More time. She needed more rest. And when the fog cleared, and the heaviness went away, she'd be able to do all the things she wanted. She could talk to her baby, her mother, and John. She could touch them and love them. Yes, she just needed time. Just a little more rest.

* * *

David couldn't remember ever having a more seamless exit from an airport. From the moment the helicopter pilot flew them to the airstrip, and he and Angie boarded Finch's private plane and flew into LaGuardia, everything had been fast and top notch. Less than five minutes after landing in New York, they were shown to a fully appointed limousine, their luggage in the trunk, and they were whisked away. A few minutes into their drive to the city, the telephone inside the car rang.

"I suspect that's our Mr. Finch," Angie said, as she handed David the handset.

"Hello," David answered.

"_Dr. Hayward, I hope you and your wife found your flight and the car comfortable," _said Harold.

David winked at Angie. "Yes, I think can safely say we've found everything quite comfortable."

"_Wonderful. I took the liberty of setting aside the penthouse apartment on the top floor of my Brooklyn safe house for the comfort of your wife and yourself. I'm sure you will find it most satisfactory."_

"I'm certain we will."

"_Very good," _Harold replied._ "I will give you and your wife some time to relax a bit, and then I will take you to Det. Carter."_

"That sounds fine. I guess I'll see you soon." David returned the handset to Angie. "We're being taken to the penthouse of his Brooklyn safe house."

"The Brooklyn safe house? Does that mean he has others someplace else?" she asked.

"That would be my guess."

Angie clasped David's hand in hers. "Who is this guy?"

David shrugged. "Whoever he is, we'll be meeting him soon enough."

* * *

"Det. Fusco, have you had any luck finding our mutual friend?" Harold asked, leaving Joss's room and walking to the front garden to allow Dr. Prasad, Madan's nephew, to examine her.

"No, Glasses. None of the leads have panned out," Fusco answered. "If Tall, Dark, and Angry wants to disappear, he can do it quite well. I know Joss's death has hit him really hard. It hit me hard and I was her partner, but I didn't run away."

"That's because you have a son who needs you. Mr. Reese and Det. Carter got very close. Closer than I imagine he ever wanted to be with someone else, and he's not dealing with her absence well."

"Absence? You talk about her like she missed a day at school. Carter is dead. It's not an absence, it's finality."

"You're right. It's just very hard to talk about," Harold said, deciding for the good of everyone close to Joss to keep believing she was gone. If for some reason this miracle didn't work, he couldn't let everyone grieve twice as hard for her, most especially her son and John. He just couldn't put them through that. "Keep looking, Detective. I'll let you know if I find anything new." Harold tapped his earpiece ending the call, and breathed in the bracing December air. He would be meeting with the Haywards soon. He'd brought them to the same safe house that he'd brought Joss. He knew it was more a safe apartment building, but the only true living space was the luxury suite on the tenth floor. He wanted the Haywards to be close to Joss, yet extremely comfortable, considering he had pulled them from their honeymoon and he didn't know how long they would need to stay. The outside of the building might unsettle them, but it was an extremely safe, quiet, and private property.

Re-entering the building, Harold stopped to peek in on Joss again before meeting with the doctors. He couldn't help hoping that things would change for her on their own, and he'd enter the room to see her sitting up in bed demanding coffee and Taylor. But he knew the chances of that happening were slim to none. Dr. Madan was an incredibly gifted doctor and surgeon, and admitted he could do no more for her, so she would indeed need a special miracle to come out of her coma and be her old self again.

"Any changes?" he asked the doctor.

"No, sir. Everything is the same."

"I want to thank you and your uncle for all you've done. The new doctor and his doctor wife have come to town, and they will be taking over Joss's case."

"Uncle and I both hope these doctors can give you the results you seek. We both agree that Det. Carter is a fighter, the fact she is still breathing is a testament to that. However, she has had to fight so hard to get here, that…"

Harold held up a hand, stopping the young doctor's words. "I understand. Your uncle has made that quite clear. I'm expecting a miracle. I won't accept less than that for her. She deserves that."

"Very well. Uncle will be back in half an hour, in order to fully detail the doctors of her condition."

"That will be fine. I will be back with them then." Harold left the room and entered the elevator, inserting the key for the short ride to the tenth floor. The elevator door opened and he walked the polished marble walkway that led to the front entrance of the apartment. About a minute after ringing the doorbell, the tall, dark-haired David Hayward answered the door.

"Mr. Finch I presume?" he said.

Harold extended his hand. "That is correct, Doctor. I'm very glad to meet you."

"I share your sentiment." David stepped aside. "Come in, please."

"Thank you." Harold entered and smiled at the dimpled beauty standing before him. "Hello," he said with a smile.

"Mr. Finch, this is my wife, Angela."

"Dr. Hayward, it's a pleasure." He took her hand in a squeeze. She was quite a lovely lady, with the deepest dimples in her cheeks that he'd ever seen.

"Please, call me Angie," she said, returning the handshake. "It will help with any confusion."

David made his way to Angie and they all sat. "Angie and I were just going over Det. Carter's medical records again, and this will be quite a challenging case."

"You have had some incredible successes, and that's why I contacted you. I have every belief that you can help Joss."

"You know I'm not licensed and my _**techniques**_ have not been approved by the FDA."

"Doctor, you're here. If these facts don't bother you, they most certainly don't bother me. I want Joss to be well again."

"Where is she? I won't be able to get privileges at any hospital…"

"She's not in a hospital."

"What?" David and Angie said in unison.

"I will go into more detail, but only after I'm assured you will treat her."

"As you said, Mr. Finch, I'm here." David gazed at Angie and then took her hand. "Yes, I will do everything I can to help her. We both will."

"Angie nodded. "Yes, we will." She leaned forward on the couch, looking intently at Harold. "Now, where is she?"

"She's close."

"Why are we staying at a deluxe apartment in what looks like an abandoned building?"

"Because I fancy myself as inconspicuous. I enjoy my privacy. It is quite private here. Also, because Det. Carter is on the second floor.

"She's where?" David asked.

"Downstairs." Harold stood and limped over to the door. "Follow me. I'm certain you are both ready to start on your protocol."


	3. Chapter 3

John woke with a start. The pounding in his head seemed to be in a competitive beat with the loud music blasting around him from across the hall. He shot his hands to his head, desperate for the agony to stop. And then he remembered. "Joss," he whispered, tears pooling his eyes as he reached for the bottle he felt against his leg. He twisted open the cap and brought the bottle to his lips, turning it up. A drop fell onto his tongue and he tossed the empty bottle against the back wall, hearing it crash to pieces. He needed more. Managing to get off the floor to his feet, he ignored his spinning head and stalked out the room. He wanted to forget. He much preferred the banging in his head to the tearing in his heart. He needed to pass out again.

Holding on to the rickety banister, he managed to walk down the winding set of stairs of the seedy hotel and out the door. The bright sunshine stung his eyes, increasing his dizziness, causing him to fall flat on his face on the sidewalk. He groaned as he rolled onto his side. Footsteps approached and he felt someone grab his arm. John flung widely at the person touching him. "Get off!" he demanded, pushing the person away.

_"Suit yourself, dude. Dirty drunk,"_ a male voice said, the footsteps moving away.

John stayed on his side for several moments. Keeping his eyes shut, he felt around him and came in contact with a hard surface. Pressing against the wall for support, he somehow got to his feet. The liquor store wasn't too far away. Using his hand to shade his eyes from the morning sun, John stumbled a couple of dozen feet to the store. He staggered inside and slammed his hand on the counter. "Hey! Come give me some service," he shouted. "Hey!"

_"It's you again,"_ a man said moments later, his voice like rolling thunder.

Angling his head, John turned to the voice. "You know me?" he said, glancing up at the burly man who was at least six inches taller.

"You bought up the last of the Jack I had on the shelf yesterday."

"I need more," he said, slipping his hand into the pants pocket of the suit he'd been wearing since he left Finch's safe house. "Here!" He tossed some crumpled twenty and fifty dollar bills on the counter. "Get me my whiskey."

"There is no more. My new shipment doesn't come in until tomorrow." The man gazed at the money as though it was a used tissue. "Besides, I think you had more than enough to last a month."

"I didn't ask what you think." John pointed at the wall of booze behind the man. "Give me five of those bottles," he said, scratching at his scraggly beard.

The man shook his head. "No." Using the back of his hand, he slid the balled money off the counter.

John's growing anger at the uncooperative shopkeeper lessened his dizziness. "I'm a paying customer," he said, lowering his voice to barely audible murmur. The last thing he wanted was this walking skyscraper making him do something he didn't want to do.

"You're a customer if I say so. I'm refusing you, and I have the right to do so. C'mon, fella, what is it? You lose your job? Your wife cheat on you? Whatever it is, it's not worth you drinking yourself to death over it."

"Shut up!" John spat, not needing a liquor salesman to shrink him. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about. Just give me some whiskey."

"Look, you obviously have someone who cares about you. I mean as filthy as you are, that suit is clearly expensive. Call your loved ones, man. Go home."

The man's words stung him, stoking his ever-present grief. "I have no home, and my loved one – my loved one is gone." John swiped at the tears streaming into his beard. "Just give me some whiskey," he repeated.

"Your skin is reeking of it. I will not sell you another bottle."

"Fine!" John smashed his open hand into the large man's face, climbing over the counter after the salesman slumped to the floor, groaning in agony about his broken nose. Grabbing five bottles of rye, he crawled back over the counter, put the bottles in a paper bag, and stomped out the door, never once noticing the camera in the front corner.

* * *

"How is she doing this morning?" Angie asked, joining David at Joss's bed. He'd come down at five this morning, and fours later, he was still hard at work.

"The exact same," David answered, scribbling some notes to Joss's chart.

Angie shook her head. Her heart went out to this woman. Joss was a few years younger than she, but she had a son and a job she loved in a field where Black women were oftentimes considered tokens that only got advances to make a quota, a lot like herself. The way Harold spoke of her, Joss was clearly a remarkable lady, and he would do whatever necessary to see her well again.

"This is her GCS reading from earlier," David said, extending her the chart.

"Still three. A deep coma."

"Yes." David removed his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. "A constant since her surgery. I'm going to start her treatment today. Everything I need is on this floor, and Finch has a revolving staff of nurses, radiology techs, and phlebotomists in place. I was proud of my little clinic, but this place…"

Angie nodded. "It's impressive. I know," she said, setting the chart on the bed table. "I still can't get over that apartment."

"Well, between doing everything we can to get formally introduced to Det. Carter, Finch wants us to remember that we are still newlyweds." David took her hand and walked into the hall. "This isn't how I expected our first weeks of marriage to start," he said, bringing Angie into a tight embrace.

"It's okay. I'd much rather be where we are. I really want to help her."

"Me, too," he said, pulling out of the hug, and tugging on a curly lock of her hair.

"Our children won't believe we spent part of our honeymoon in an abandoned building slash mini medical center slash luxury apartment. But as long as we're together, we could be in the middle of the swamp, and it will still be paradise to me. I love you." She stepped on her tiptoes and gave him a sweet kiss.

David licked his lips and smiled. "You know, I see you saying these words to me, and I want to look over my shoulder to see if there's another guy behind me," he said, stroking her cheek. "I doubt I'll ever be able to do enough to make up for all the things I've done, for the people I've hurt in my quest to play God, but knowing you love me, it's make me believe I can get close, because you see something good in me."

"I see you, David. I saw you when I lost my sight and you moved heaven and earth to give it back to me. It was then, when I was stuck in my darkness, that I realized there was some light in you. No, you're not perfect, but nobody is, not even me. What you are is smart, dedicated, skillful, handsome, sexy, an incredible lover, and the best friend I ever had. You don't sugarcoat things to me, and you don't lie to me for my own good. And that makes me love you even more."

"I guess that makes me the luckiest guy in the world." He laced her fingers with his and brought her hand to his lips. Angie smiled up at him and brushed her fingers through his dark hair. David sighed. "Later, I'll show you how much I love you, Doctor. But, right now, I need to show Det. Carter how much I really want her to become a part of the living."

"Let's make this happen," Angie said, following him back to Joss's room.

* * *

Harold sat at his computer center, anxiously typing on the keyboard. He felt both elation and sadness at the same time. "Mr. Reese." The machine had found John in a town in West Virginia. Specifically, a liquor store in a town in West Virginia that he'd visited the previous day. John looked a lot like the man Harold met two and a half years ago, but instead of tattered clothes, he wore a filthy tailored suit to complement his scraggly beard and hair. But the most upsetting thing was the fact there was no sign of the light that glittered just behind the eyes of sad John Reese from two years ago. Now, he was completely in darkness. He'd punched the store owner without provocation, and Harold didn't know, even if he got to John, if he could reach him. Unless? He removed his glasses and sat back in his chair, rubbing his face. He had to tell John about Joss.

* * *

**Author's Note: Yes, Finch has to go against his earlier declaration to shake John out of his grief, but will it work? And will David be able to get Joss to respond to his treatments or will things get worse for the detective? Thanks for reading and responding. It is truly appreciated. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: This is being posted a little later than I expected. Some cold bug decided to invade my body. Thanks for reading and reviewing. As always, I truly appreciate it.**

* * *

Harold entered Joss's room at the safe house and sat next to her bed. "How are you today, Detective?" Maybe it was hopeful wishing, but she looked a lot better this morning. Not as pale as she'd been. Was the much hoped for turnaround in her condition starting to happen? Bringing Mr. Reese back would only help in her recovery. Both of their recoveries. "I have to leave for a little while, but I should be back later tonight or tomorrow morning." Harold took Joss's hand in his. "I'm going to bring you back a visitor. A visitor I think really needs to see you. I understand that when people are in comas, they can still hear people talking to them. Hear me, Joss. You're going to be okay. Both you and Mr. Reese are going to be okay."

A beeping sound from one of her machines startled Harold. He leapt from the chair, standing beside her, his pulse racing. "Joss?"

Footsteps rushed toward the room. "What happened?" David asked, rushing to Joss and pulling on his stethoscope, as Angie scurried to other side of the bed. She touched the side of Joss's neck and stared at her watch.

"I – I was just talking to her. Then the machine started beeping. What is it? Is she all right?"

"Her pulse rate is up a bit," Angie answered.

David removed the stethoscope. "Her heart is racing, but not enough to be concerned." He turned to Harold with what appeared to be a little smile. "In fact, I'd say that was a positive step."

Harold's eye widened. His mouth stretched into a big smile. "Really?"

"Yes." David punched some buttons on the beeping machine, and the noise stopped.

"Whatever you said to her, it got a reaction," Angie offered. "I suggest you keep talking to her about that."

"Oh, no." Harold glanced at Joss. "I have to go on a little trip. I hope to be back before the end of the day, but I can't be certain." Harold turned to David and Angie. "I'm grateful that's she's made a positive step, but I visit her three times a day every day, and I always talk to her. She's never responded before."

"Perhaps it was the topic of conversation. If you mentioned you were leaving, it might have triggered something, as you are her only visitor. Also, David started his treatments on her this morning, but I don't think he's ever gotten a response that fast, have you?" Angie asked, turning to her husband.

"No, I haven't. My results, though staggering, have all occurred over a period of months and sometimes years, but never this quickly." David rubbed his chin. "I did alter the makeup of my drug for her, but it's only been a couple of hours since I gave her the dosage."

Harold smiled brightly. He felt like he could kiss David. "I could tell Joss looked differently this morning. I thought it was hopeful wishing. Doctor, you are making this happen. I knew you could do this."

"Don't get too excited. She's had a good sign, but there are still tests and a lot of waiting left to do."

"The waiting will be a lot easier now. For three weeks she's just been asleep. No changes, no nothing. It was your medication and…" Mentioning Mr. Reese. He had to get John back to New York. "I must go." He gave Joss's hand a squeeze. "I'll be back as soon as I can with your visitor."

"Her visitor?" Angie and David said in unison.

"Yes. Doctors, keep doing what you're doing, it's working," Harold said, limping hurriedly out the door. He had to get to West Virginia.

* * *

"David, come take a look."

He turned at the sound of Angie's voice, blinking after staring at Joss's chart for the last hour. He rushed over as Angie rolled the lab chair to the side, making room for him at the microscope. David looked into the double lenses. "No adverse effects to her blood cells," he said, folding his reading glasses into his lab coat.

"That's right. It has been four hours. The dosage is completely out of her system, and she is responding to painful stimuli. She is turning a corner, and it's thanks to you."

Moving from the microscope, David turned and sat on the edge of the table, his attention focused on Angie. "And to think I was in prison two years ago."

"You were a different person when you did the things that caused you to go to prison. I don't know how many times I have to tell you this to make you understand. You are not that person anymore. When I met the David Hayward you were back in 2008, I hated your guts." David laughed. "And I know you felt the same way about me."

"Hate is such a strong word, Angela."

"But accurate in this case. You were hurting my friends and being a nuisance to the whole town. You had me arrested for breaking into your house, when I was trying to help Krystal. Remember that? "

"If I had a clue that you would someday be my wife, I would've never let that happen," David said with a smile, bringing her stand between his legs. Holding her close in his arms, he claimed her lips in a soft kiss. "We've come a long way, baby."

"God knows that's the truth." She pressed her forehead to his. "Det. Carter has come a long way, too."

"She has responded amazing well to her first treatment. Even better than I could've imagined," David said, reaching behind for Joss's file. He was always his own biggest fan; just one of the reasons Angie detested him so back when, but he couldn't get over Det. Carter's quick response to his treatment. "It seems it won't be much longer before she wakes from her coma. And, somehow, I think this visitor Finch is bringing her will be just the push she needs to get to the other side of this."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Joss. I'm so, so sorry. It should've been me. I wish it was me." John reached for his bottle, his fingers going further than they should for the bottle he knew he kept close. He opened his teary eyes and sat up on the cold floor. _Where was that damn bottle?_

"Looking for this?"

_Harold? _John looked over his shoulder to see a fuzzy image of the reclusive billionaire sitting on wooden stool in the right corner of the room, holding one of his bottles. "What are you doing here?" he asked, brushing the tears from his eyes. "What are you doing with that bottle?"

"Trying to save you from killing yourself is what I'm doing here. As for this bottle, I've already done what I wanted with this and the two others you had left. I poured the contents down the sink."

"You what?!" John pressed his open palms to his head. _Oh, the pain. _He needed that bottle.

"It's obvious you've had more than enough, Mr. Reese. And I'm here to cut off your supply and get you home."

"What home, Harold? Home isn't a place or a location. It's something you carry in here," he said, pounding his fist to his chest. "My home died with Joss."

"I know how you're feeling, John. But you don't - -"

"Stop!" John held up a shaky hand. "You have no idea how I feel. You walked away from the woman you loved. I loved two, and they were ripped away from me. Ripped away. Grace is alive. You can see her face. The only reminder I have of Joss is a grave marker." John wished he could face Taylor, but he couldn't. He had to deal with his disappointment in himself, he couldn't face Taylor's, too. "You have no idea what this is like, Harold. You don't want to know this pain," he murmured, burying his face in his hands.

"Mr. Reese, listen to me. I …"

"I don't want your pity, okay? All I want is to be left alone with my bottles. That's all. Just go to the corner and get some more, and then leave me alone."

"I can't do that. First of all, the store is gone. After your display with the store owner, you were too inebriated to notice the camera, I had to get some lawyers to settle with him. Two hundred thousand dollars and an 'Out of Business' sign later, your troubles with Mr. Snell are over." Harold left the stool and lumbered over to where John sat on the floor. "Now, you need to get up, get in the shower, shave, and get ready to go back to New York. Perhaps we can find a barber on the way to the airport. I brought along a change of clothes, so…"

John snatched away his arm as Harold tried to pull him up. "There is nothing for me in New York."

"And this lived-in lodge with its comfortable floor outside of Davis, West Virginia has everything you need? I'm not going to leave you here to drown your sorrows in whiskey."

"You can't stop me," John replied in a barely audible whisper, glaring at Finch.

"Don't threaten me, Mr. Reese. I don't believe for one second you'd hit a bespectacled man with a bad leg. You're not that cruel, you're just hurting." Harold paused. "How do you feel? You were shot a few weeks ago."

"I'm fine." John didn't feel any pain from the wounds, the pain in his head and heart overrode everything else. "And I'm old enough to take care of myself and make my own choices. And if I have to turn this town upside down, I'm going to find some bottles."

"You are needed in New York."

"I don't care about the numbers, Finch. What good is saving people if I can't save the person I love the most? I don't want it anymore."

"What if I told you that Det. Carter was still alive?"

John shuddered, as if slapped by a backhand. "I'd say that's a damn horrible thing to say, Harold. Joss died in my arms. She's gone."

Harold nodded. "Yes, she _was_ gone. But the EMTs brought her back. As did the doctor at the hospital. Dr. Madan."

"Madan?" John repeated. The doctor had saved him after Snow tried to take him out. He'd asked the doctor to…

"That's right," Harold said, as if reading his mind. "The doctor you asked to become private physician to Joss if she'd happened to be admitted to the hospital. Well, he did that. He kept her alive and he called me when he couldn't reach you. She's in a safe place with wonderful doctors."

"She's alive?" John's head started spinning, and it had nothing to with whiskey that had become his closest friend. Joss alive? "It's really true?" John struggled to his feet, his gaze fixed on Harold. "You're not just saying this to get me back to New York?"

"I would say anything to get you out of this _place_. But, yes, it's true. We need to get back…"

"How is she? I mean she was hurt so badly that…" Tears filled his eyes. "How…"

"She's holding her own, Mr. Reese. I will tell you all of the details on the flight, but please shower, shave, and change first. I'll wait for you downstairs and see if this place has coffee. You will need quite a lot of it." Harold pulled a phone and a bottle of aspirin out of his pocket and dropped them on table. "Hold on to the phone, and take the aspirin."

John dry-swallowed three aspirins and raced toward the bathroom. His pain and dizziness was gone, all replaced with hope. Joss was alive, and he was going to see her. "I'll be down in ten minutes."

"Please, make it twenty." Finch turned up his nose. "I took the liberty of placing a shaving kit and some other toiletries inside the washroom."

"Just be ready to go when I get down. I have to get to Joss."


	5. Chapter 5

John held on to the dashboard of the Lincoln MKS as Harold maneuvered them through the New York City traffic. It felt like they'd been in the car for hours, and not the fifteen minutes it had actually been. Hearing the details of Joss's condition caused John's heart to drop to his stomach and stay there for the duration of the flight. As bad as things were, Joss was still alive, she was alive, and that's what he had to hold on to. Feeling Harold sneaking glances his way, John turned him. "What, Harold?"

"You can't make this car go any faster by pushing on the dashboard, Mr. Reese. I am doing the best I can, but I can't make rush hour traffic go away. At least not from this car."

"I'm just ready to see her. You should've let me drive."

"No, I shouldn't have. You look like your old self with all that excess hair gone, but you're not totally sober yet, and with your emotions so scattered, you would probably get us both killed if you were behind the wheel. We'll be there soon."

Knowing Harold was right, John sunk back into the soft leather seat. "Tell me more about this quack you called in to use Joss as a guinea pig."

"He is not a quack."

"He's not a doctor."

"That's not his fault," Harold answered, making a left turn. "This man has done the impossible, Mr. Reese. When Dr. Madan told me he could do no more for Joss, I knew she needed a miracle. She'd flat-lined five times, but they were able to bring her back. I couldn't let that be for nothing."

John's heart lurched at once again hearing what Harold told him a short hour before on the plane. What Joss had been through. What she was still going through. He should've stayed around and not run off to drown his pain. To end his pain. Joss had used what she thought was her dying breath to ask him to look in on Taylor, but he ignored that to take care of himself. To deal with what her loss meant to him, not to the son she left behind. His eyes burned with the threat of tears. He should have stayed for Taylor, for Joss, for himself. But he ran. One of his best events. He should have kept his sorry ass in West Virginia.

"Do not do it, Mr. Reese," Harold said, never taking his eyes off the road. "This is not the time for you to beat yourself up for leaving. What's done is done. You're here now."

"Because you found me and told me Joss was alive." John brushed the tears from his eyes. "If you hadn't done that, I'd still be trying to drink myself to death."

"But you did come back. John, you said you loved Joss."

"I do love her."

Harold turned to him. "Then act like it, dammit!" he shouted, before turning his attention back to the road.

John stared in disbelief at his employer. Did Harold just yell at him _and_ swear?

"This is not about you and how you feel about the mistakes you've made," Harold continued. "This is about being there for Joss and helping her through this. That's all this is about."

"How did you know what I was thinking?"

"You were too quiet. Considering what we were talking about, it wasn't a stretch to reach my conclusion. Forgive me for using the expletive, I was just a little angry."

"It's okay. I guess I needed to hear it." John sighed. "So, tell me more about this Hayward."

"He's an incredibly intelligent man and gifted doctor. He's had a lot of loss in his life, and it has made him want to find a way to stop it from happening to him again. So he did a lot of research and some less than savory trials, and he came up with a way to bring people from the brink of death."

John listened intently as Harold extolled the wonders of David Hayward. He remained a bit skeptical, but Joss responding when Harold talked to her this morning was a big deal. He would try to keep an open mind, because all he wanted was for Joss to be all right. How it happened didn't matter, so long as it happened. He needed her. He didn't want to imagine losing her again.

Harold pulled up to an abandoned building that was surrounded by a tall wooden gate. With the push of a button on the keyless remote to his car, a section on the far end of the gate opened, and Harold drove through. "We're here," he said, parking the car.

"I thought I knew about all your safe houses," John said, stepping out of the car.

"I can't tell you everything." Reaching the door, Harold entered the four digit code on the keypad and extended his arm when the door opened. "Let's see Det. Carter."

John held his breath on the short elevator ride to the second floor of the building. Walking out of the elevator, he noticed how much like a hospital this space looked. He'd seen rooms in some of Harold's safe houses that looked like nice clinics, but this floor was amazing. The place Harold insisted he stay after the shooting wasn't as nice as this. Then again, Joss needed a lot more care than he.

Harold came to a stop a few feet away from a room. "She's right in there," he said. "I'll give you some time alone."

After watching Harold disappear around a corner, John entered the large room. The breath he'd been holding came out as a long sigh. "Joss," he whispered as tears burned his eyes. He'd never been so happy and so sad all at once.

Making his way to the chair at her bedside, John sat and took her hand, mindful of the tab on her finger that monitored her pulse and heart rate and the IV in her arm. "Joss, I'm here." He pressed a kiss to her cheek and cupped the side of her face. "I'm sorry I wasn't here before, but I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise." He brushed his thumb against her soft cheek. "I know how hard you've been fighting, and I'm so proud of you, but I'm going to need you to fight some more, Joss. Harold told me the doctors think you're about ready to wake up, and there is absolutely nothing I want more than to see your beautiful brown eyes." He had to see her eyes. See his Joss. "Can you do that for me, Joss? Please, wake up. Please, Carter, let me see you. Let me know that you're there."

Tears fell from his eyes as he pleaded with her to wake up. He watched her closely, waiting for some sign of movement, but nothing happened. He sniffled. "It's okay. Take as much time as you need. When you're finally ready to wake up, just know I'll be right here waiting for you."

* * *

"_John?"_ Joss heard him talking. The voice didn't seem as far away as Harold's did. She felt warmth on her hand and wetness. There was a touch on her cheek. The tiredness wasn't as bad as it had been. She wanted to open her eyes. John wanted her to open her eyes. Did she smell his cologne? Was he really with her?

Nothing had seemed so real before now. She'd constantly heard voices she didn't recognize, felt unfamiliar but gentle hands touching her, sensed worry in Harold's voice, but never heard John, not until now. If she could see him, look at him, she knew this fog that had surrounded for so long would be lifted. She could shake this vise it seemed her whole body was closed in. She had to open her eyes. _"God, please, let me open my eyes."_ She tried, she struggled, but nothing. What had happened to her? Why couldn't she move or talk or touch the hands that touched hers? _"Why?"_

"Joss?" John said. A hand touched her shoulder. "Carter, can you hear me?" The warmth on her hand left. "Doctor! Doctor!"

Rapid footfalls approached.

"What is it?" a man's voice asked.

"Look," said John. "She's crying."

* * *

**A/N: It seems Joss might actually wake up soon. Thanks for reading and reviewing. **


	6. Chapter 6

"Good morning, John," Dr. Angela Hayward said as she and her husband entered Joss's room.

John cleared his throat and stood from his chair. "Good morning," he said, scratching his hand through his hair. He felt a little shaky, because though he had rested, he didn't get any sleep. His night was spent holding Joss's hand and talking to her. It had been three days since he'd seen the tears flowing from her closed eyes, with the hope that they would soon open. But that was not to be. Not yet.

"How are you this morning?" David asked him, making his way to Joss.

"I don't – I don't know," John answered, stroking Joss's cheek. "I'm not going to be okay until she wakes up. I know she hears me when I talk to her. She's coming back, I can feel it. She's fighting. That's why she was crying."

"The detective is making wonderful progress, and I'm excited about that."

"Because she's turning a corner."

"She has turned a corner. It's been almost a week since she's been in our care and there is a noticeable difference in her. She was in the deepest coma a person can be in when we got here, but her readings show she is coming out of it. We just can't specifically say when she'll come to. You have to keep in mind that she could have some brain damage. We won't be able to determine the severity of it until she awakens."

John refused to even entertain the notion that Joss could have brain damage. She'd already been through so much. There was no way she'd have to wake up and still fight. No, that wasn't an option. "So you're saying she will wake up soon, right?" he offered, desperate to get some definitive information from the man.

"Possibly." David dragged his fingers through his dark hair. "John, I know you're anxious."

"I'm more than anxious. A few days ago I thought Joss was dead." John's gaze fixed on her sleeping form. "That I'd never see her again. Well, I'm here, and she's here. She's coming back, I know it, and she's going to be Joss. A loving mother and hard-nose detective. Tough and sweet and determined and beautiful. Her amazing self." He brushed away the tear that slid down his cheek. "I know this." John cleared his throat and turned to the Haywards. "I'll step outside. I know you need to check her." He pressed a kiss to Joss's cheek. "I'll be right back."

"We'll be brief, I promise," Angie said with a squeeze to John's forearm as she moved to the other side of Joss's bed.

He nodded. "Okay." And then stepped outside the door.

* * *

"I feel terrible for him," Angie said, her heart breaking for John. "He refuses to leave, and he's never been more than twenty minutes away from her side on any given day."

"He's definitely a man in love," David replied, filling Joss's IV with her fourth dosage of his drug. "Who knows, maybe today will be the day she wakes up."

"You should've told John that."

David shook his head and disposed of the needle and rubber gloves. "If I told him she might wake up today, he'll hear 'she will,' and if she doesn't, he'll start questioning my ability. He thinks I'm a quack, you know?"

"You're a lot of things, but quack doesn't make the list. John's just worried. Before Harold brought him here, he had to be drinking constantly. He was clean and smelled of cologne, but it's hard to disguise alcohol when it's been your three meals and afternoon snack every day."

"You think he's been drinking that much?"

"Yes. Remember, I used to live above a bar for a few years. Right in this city. I know the smell of booze." Angie brushed her hand against Joss's. "You have so much waiting for you, Detective. That John is hot."

"Hey!" Angie smirked at the unhappiness flashing in David's dark eyes. "What are you talking about, Angela? I'm supposed to be the only man you notice."

"David, I'm married, not blind." She approached him and gave his lips a sweet kiss. "I might notice an attractive man, but your bones are the only ones I want to jump," she whispered softly.

"That's good to know." He kissed her nose. "Let's get him back in here."

* * *

John watched intently as Dr. Angie and her husband checked Joss. He liked Angie, she seemed like a very capable doctor and she was very pleasant. But that husband of hers. That guy seemed like a pompous ass. Harold couldn't say enough about him, but John remained skeptical. David being so sure of himself was probably a good thing, but the man wasn't a doctor. What the hell is in the syringe he puts in Joss's IV every morning?

The phone Harold insisted John keep vibrated in his pants pocket. Pulling it out, John answered the call. "Her condition is the same, Finch. Angie and David are with her right now."

"I'm glad you're away from them," Harold said. "I got a new number this morning."

John sighed. "Why are you telling me this? I don't give a damn about the numbers. Call Lionel or Shaw."

"Ms. Shaw has disappeared with our former library guest. I've not heard a word from her in over two weeks. And, honestly, I don't care if I never do."

John couldn't disagree with that. Shaw took strange to a new level. "And Lionel?"

"Det. Fusco is on a case. Mr. Reese, I need you to handle this number."

"Harold, I'm not leaving Joss again. I know I work for you, and you've done a lot for Joss and me, but I'll quit before I leave her side to…"

"The number is Dr. Hayward," Harold said, interrupting John's declaration.

"Somebody wants to hurt Angie?" John said in disbelief. Angie didn't strike him as someone who could bring harm to another person. Then, again, who'd want to hurt her? "That has to be wrong, Finch."

"It's David's number."

John closed his eyes and rubbed his left temple. This was not happening. And David was not a doctor.

"Mr. Reese, are you still there?"

"Yes," John answered. His eyes flew open. "Wait a minute. David? That drug he's giving Joss." His heart pounded like it was going to burst as he stalked the few feet to Joss's door. "Damn! I should've -"

"John, please don't jump to that erroneous conclusion. Stay out of that room and let the Haywards do their work."

John slipped his fingers from the door handle. "Fine," he muttered, taking some slow, calming breaths. "Fine."

"David is doing everything he can to help Joss. He's not harming her. I feel certain that he's in danger. He's a man who's not short on enemies."

"That doesn't surprise me," John remarked. "Angie marrying him does." He rubbed his chin, encountering his scraggly three-day-old beard. "Maybe she wants to take him out. He's not blackmailing her, is he?"

"No, he is not. They are very much in love. Mr. Reese, I ask that you put your doubt of Dr. -"

John groaned, hating Harold calling David that.

"I ask that you put your doubt of David," Harold corrected, "and his ability to the side, and keep your eye on him. He's helping us. I want us to return the favor." John heard Harold tapping his keyboard. "Now, the safe house is wired with sight and sound. However, it's not activated in the apartment or any of the rooms in the medical facility. Since the Haywards are still on their honeymoon, spying on them is not something I want to do. Although, I have cloned their cell phones and have access to the apartment phones." Harold paused. "Are you in, Mr. Reese?"

John drew a deep breath and let it go. This was the absolute last thing he wanted to deal with.

"John?" Harold said.

"I'll do what I can, Harold, but my head is not in this. All I can think about is Joss."

"I feel certain that Det. Carter will wake from her coma very soon. I've seen what David is capable of doing, and Joss is responding to that. Let him do his job, and you try to do yours, okay?"

"They're coming out of her room. I'll call you later." John ended the call and dropped the phone back into his pocket. "So?" he asked upon meeting the Haywards.

"Her condition is the same," Angie answered. "The good thing is it's not declining, so things are remaining stable. You can go in now."

John nodded, his attention on David. "Thank you, Angie," he said, before making his way to the room.

"_He really doesn't like me." _

A little grunt rumbled in John's throat upon hearing David's words. At least the man wasn't stupid. He entered the room, returned to his seat at Joss's bedside, and took her hand in his. "Oh, Carter, I really miss talking to you," he said, kissing her hand. "I miss everything about you. Your smile, your laugh, your well-placed zingers." He slid his finger against her cheek. "The way the light in your eyes makes me want to be a better person. A person you trust to do the right thing, even when the wrong this is really what I want to do." He looked down at her hand, absently toying with her slender fingers. "That David Hayward. I really don't like him." John scoffed. "It's not even that simple. The guy reminds me a lot of myself. And that's not such a good thing."

"_I disagree."_

For a moment, everything froze. John squeezed his eyes shut and did something he hadn't done since he was a small boy. _God, I know I have some nerve to ask, but, please, please, don't let this be just another dream. You know how I feel about her. How much I love her and need her. Please, let this be my dream come true. _He raised his lowered head and tentatively opened his eyes, his hand clutching to hers.

In the next moment, Joss's eyes fluttered several times and then opened. A little smile touched her lips. "John," she murmured softly.

John didn't even try to smooth away the tears that streamed furiously down his cheeks. He'd never felt so happy, so relieved, and so thankful in all his life. "You're back, Joss. You're back."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: I liked to thank all those who have been reading and reviewing. It is truly wonderful. Also, I listen to suggestions, and in that vein, this chapter is **_**extremely **_**long. Happy Reading!**

* * *

"Where am I?" Joss asked, her voice raspy as she took in her surroundings. "This room is so big."

John watched her in awe. She was awake and talking, as if she just woke up from a nap. "You're in a medical facility," he replied.

"A hospital?"

"More or less. But you're doing so much better right now."

Joss's gaze fixed on him. John glanced down at his wrinkled white dress shirt and the sleeves that were rolled up to his elbows. He hadn't looked in a mirror, but with less than ten hours of sleep over the past three days, he felt certain his eyes were bloodshot, and his new facial hair couldn't be helping matters. "You look tired," she said.

"I feel great," John said with a big smile. "I haven't felt this good in a long time." He squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips. "The question is how do you feel?"

"Groggy," she answered with a grimace. "My chest hurts. My throat is so dry."

Turning to the bedside table, John poured her a cup of water and dropped in a straw. "Take it slow," he advised as she took a few sips.

"Thank you."

"You're more than welcome." He returned the cup to the table and closed his hand around hers. "What do you remember?"

Joss closed her eyes for several moments. "A shooting." Her eyes popped open. "You were shot. Simmons. That bastard tried to kill you," she said, her voice full of angry disbelief as she attempted to sit up. Her sudden movement evoked a deep grunt and long groan of pain. She fell back against the bed.

John stood and rubbed her shoulder. "Joss, keep still," he directed. "You have to take it easy. Don't worry about Simmons; he has been taken care of."

Silence enveloped the room. "He's been taken care of? John, wh –"

He stopped her words with a kiss to her warm, soft lips. It didn't last long, as he wanted to avert her attention from Simmons, and not ravish her mere minutes after she woke from a coma. The look of surprise on her face brought a smile to his lips. "Yes?" he said, seeing the questions in her dark eyes as he hovered a few inches from her face.

"What was that?" she asked breathlessly.

His smiled widened as he licked his lips. "A kiss. We've shared one before. Remember?"

"Yes, but this one took me a little by surprise."

"A good surprise, I hope."

Joss nodded. "Yes," she answered softly.

John kissed her forehead and dropped back in his seat. "Good." Still holding on to her hand, he brought it to his lips and sighed. As much as he enjoyed the kiss and was so happy that Joss was awake, something she said, more like didn't say, left him with a question.

"What's on your mind?"

"I was just thinking about your recollection of the shooting. What else do you remember?"

"I remember Simmons coming out of an alley with a gun, him pointing at you, and shooting. He shot you twice." Her gaze moved from his face to his torso and back again. "You obviously wasn't hurt too badly, because, minus that new beard and your tired eyes, you look great."

"No, _you_ look great. A real sight for these sore eyes," John said, hoping to keep his expression non-committal as he stood. "I should call your nurse and have her bring in Angie and David."

"Wait." Joss held out her hand, stopping him as he reached the call button. "What aren't you telling me, John? What happened to me?"

"You were hurt, but you're doing better. It's nothing for you to worry about."

"Who are Angie and David?"

"Angie is a doctor. She and David have been taking care of you."

"Why do you want them to see me?"

"You just woke up, and you should be looked over. I want to make sure everything is how it should be."

"Is that all?" she asked, skepticism filling her eyes.

"Yes." He shrugged. "Maybe I'm a little overprotective. I just missed you so much. I want to make sure you're okay."

"Minus some grogginess and a little pain, I feel fine. Honestly. I don't want you to worry."

"I can't help but worry, Joss. You mean so much to me. I just …" John caught himself before saying too much. There will be time for that later. He didn't want to overwhelm her with too much too soon. And he was anxious for Angie and David to take a look at her. To find out if her failure to remember being shot was a symptom of something more. "I want to be certain."

"Is Taylor here?"

_Taylor._ He had a big call and important information for the teen. "No, he's not here right now, but I promise you will see him soon." John reached for the call button and told the nurse that Joss had awakened. Less than three minutes later, Angie and David rushed into the room.

"How long has she been awake?" David asked John, as Angie made her way to Joss.

"About ten minutes."

"Can you tell me your name and date of birth?" Angie asked.

"Jocelyn Carter. September 4, 1970."

After checking Joss's pulse, Angie took out a pen light and checked her eyes. "Look to the left for me, please. Good. To the right. Good. Okay, now, take each of my hands and squeeze them as tightly as you can."

Joss cleared her throat and glanced at the IV in her left arm.

"Sorry. Just squeeze my right hand as tightly as you can." Angie nodded. "Good, that's good." She pulled the covers away at the foot of the bed, and pushed them to the other side. "Now, I want you to press you right foot as hard as you can against my hand." Joss pressed her foot against the hand. "Okay. Now the left foot." Joss complied. "Fine." Angie placed the covers back over Joss, scribbled some notes in a chart, and handed it to David.

After perusing the chart, David approached Joss. "Do you have any pain?"

"My chest, and my head hurts a little."

"On a scale from one to five, five being severe, how is your chest pain?"

"Three."

"And your head?"

"Two."

"Who's the president?"

"Barack Obama."

"What day is it?" David asked.

Joss paused. "I'm not sure," she answered. "I think it's November 15th or 16th. Is that right?"

David glanced over at Angie and then turned back to Joss. "Do you remember what happened to you?" he asked.

Joss shook her head. "No. John said I was hurt, but he didn't tell me how it happened."

"She remembers me being shot, but nothing more," John answered, closing his hand around Joss's. "I wanted her to be looked over before I told her specifics. How is she?"

"Joss, do you mind if John listens in on this?" David asked.

John frowned. _What the hell? _He'd been sitting here throughout her check-up. David had this uncanny ability to make him not care about whatever was coming his way. And Finch wanted him to save this man's life?

"No, I don't mind," Joss answered. "I want him to hear this, too."

"There is a little weakness in your extremities, but that is to be expected. There doesn't seem to be any serious side effects from the cerebral anoxia, which is a huge positive."

"Anoxia? I remember hearing about that while in Afghanistan. I had a lack of oxygen to my brain?" Tears filled her eyes. John's throat tightened when she turned to him. "What happened to me, and why can't I remember? John, please, tell me. I don't know what happened."

"It's okay, Joss. I'll tell you," John answered, brushing the tears from her cheeks. "Just, please, don't cry. I only stayed quiet because I didn't want you to have a setback. But you absolutely deserve to know what happened."

Angie placed her hand on David's shoulder. "We're going to step out for a while, but in about thirty minutes we want to run a few tests, okay?" she said.

Joss nodded. "Fine," she said, sniffling.

"Do you want something for your pain, Joss?"

"No, I want my head to be clear for now. Maybe a little later."

"Okay. You two take it easy."

John's gaze turned to Joss the moment after the door closed behind the Haywards. "Don't be angry with me, Joss."

"Right now, I'm too stunned to be angry. Just tell me what happened."

"You remembered part of what happened the night I got shot, but what you don't remember is - -you don't remember Simmons shooting you."

"He shot me?"

"Yes." Joss looked down at her aching chest. "You jumped to my defense and got a shot off, but he - - he hit you in the chest," John said, his voice shaking as the memory played out in head. Tears filled his eyes. "You weren't wearing your vest, and you were hurt, Joss, you were hurt so bad. I managed to get to your side, but there was nothing I could do. You were in my arms and then you… and then you were go - -"

"Shhh." Joss placed her hand to his mouth. "I'm here." She wiped away his tears. "That couldn't have…"

John nodded. "It happened. So much had happened." Upon explaining everything to her, Joss stared at him, her eyes wide in disbelief. "Joss, what's on your mind?" He clasped her hand between his. "What are you feeling?"

"Shocked and confused. I've been in a coma for almost a month and I'm presumed dead?"

"Yes. And I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you."

"Don't, John. Don't beat yourself up. You thought I had di - died."

"That's just it. I should've known, Joss. I'm not good with loss, and when you were gone, I didn't care anymore. I had wanted to be as lost as I'd felt. So, I drank, and I drank, and I drank. And between the drinking, I cursed your memory, because you were always there with me, but you weren't. And then Finch found me in a dingy hotel room in West Virginia, and he told me you were alive. And then I felt so guilty, because I should've been with you, holding your hand, and not hitchhiking from state to state getting my hand on every whiskey bottle I could."

"Yet, you came back."

"I couldn't not."

"What about your guilt, John?" She slipped her hand from his. "I don't want you to be here if you don't want to be. I don't want your guilt for leaving to be the reason you're by my side." She swiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks. "I don't need you to hold my hand."

"Joss, what - - What?" he said, dragging his hands over his face, groaning.

"You heard me. I have too much to deal with to deal with your guilt, too. I don't have the strength for it."

John shook his head and sighed deeply. "You said earlier you were confused, but I didn't realize how true that was until about a minute ago."

Joss frowned. "Wait a sec…"

John pressed his finger to her lips and shushed her. "You've said quite a lot already, it's my turn now. First and foremost, I am not here out of guilt. I'll blame the headache you have for drawing that very wrong conclusion," he said with a smile, that much to his happiness, Joss returned. "The time we spent in the morgue, in spite of all the danger we were in, was the happiest time of my life. After two years of dreaming, I'd finally got the chance to kiss those beautiful full lips, and tell you the impression you've had on me and my life. And, lady, it was profound. I had made up my mind that when we got out of there, I would set about wooing you properly."

Joss's eyebrows stitched together in surprise. "Wooing me?" she repeated.

"That's right. I had no experience with that, but I knew you were worth me giving it a try. Then, I was arrested, and I only got to spend a few more minutes with you before you were lost to me forever." He groaned softly when he felt his eyes burn with the threat of new tears. He'd cried more in the last month than he had in all the other years of his life combined. He felt like a sap, but these were the most honest emotions he'd ever felt. "I was left with so much regret. There were things we'd never be able to do together, and more than that, there were things I never get the chance to say to you." He sniffled. "Like you're the most beautiful, intelligent, brave woman I've ever known, and that I love you more than I've loved anyone in my life." John grazed his knuckles against her cheek. "I thought I'd never get the chance to say these things to you, but I'm so grateful I got a miracle. I love you, Joss. I love you so much."

"You - - You love me? _Me?_" Joss said, the tears brimming her eyes falling over the edge.

John smoothed the tears from her cheeks. "Yes, I love _you_, Jocelyn Taylor Carter."

"Wow." She smiled brightly. "You love me. I never thought I'd here you say those words to me."

"I figured I'd get around to telling you eventually. At least before everything went horribly wrong. I knew from the moment you walked into that holding room, looking so sexy in all that black, that you were going to be important to me. You were the first person, outside my homeless life, who treated me like I mattered. The first person to make me feel something other than sadness." He trailed his fingertips along her forearm as he kissed her hand. "You don't have to say it back."

"Say what back?" Joss deadpanned, before a little chuckle followed. "You should've seen your face."

"Nah. I much prefer looking at yours."

Joss smiled. "It's that, your sweet side, that makes me love you even more."

"Even more?" John looked up from the hand he'd been showering with kisses. "You love me, too?"

"John, I've loved you for a lot longer than I'm willing to admit."

"Really?" Joss nodded. "I've heard that confession is good for the soul," he said. "You want to try to tell me just how long you've loved me?" John winked.

Joss rolled her eyes. "What have I done?" she murmured, her tone draped in levity.

"I'll tell you what you've done." John stood from the chair eased closer to her. "You've just made me the happiest man in the world."

"Wait!" Joss said as he lingered over her lips.

John did a double take. _Wait?_

Joss removed the heart monitor tab from her finger. "Okay. Now."

John cupped her cheek, and gently brought his lips to hers. Joss's fingers threaded in his hair as he suckled on her bottom lip. A tentative lick of his tongue against her lip evoked a moan in Joss and the treat of her tongue meeting his. John groaned as her tongue twisted with his and the tip of her fingernails drew lazy circles against his neck, awakening his dormant lower half. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest, and if Joss was feeling anything like he was, she made a wise decision in ridding herself of the monitor.

He trailed his free hand atop the bed and urged it forward, encountering her fleshy softness and the pebbled bud straining against her hospital gown. Joss's lips left his as she sighed deeply. "John," she muttered. He smiled. Yes, she was definitely feeling what he felt. Her lips found his again and she pushed her tongue into his mouth.

Against his better judgment, John once again got lost in the taste and feel of his beloved Joss. Things were starting to get to a place where he wouldn't be able to retreat. And that fact, along with Joss just waking from a coma, made him refuse his flesh and think of her. "Joss, baby," he said pecking her lips and removing his hand from her aroused breast, "we should stop."

"I, for one, think that's a _great_ idea," David said, as John and Joss pulled away from each other.

Joss licked her lips and pressed her hands to her eyes. "Oh, God," she murmured.

John glared at David. Not only did this guy rub him the wrong way, he had the worst timing ever.

"I take it you're feeling a little better, Joss," Angie offered with a little smile as she set a tiny cup of pills on the near nightstand. "I brought you something for your discomfort and an anti-nausea pill to combat side effects of the pain medication. You can take those when you come back from your tests." Angie glanced at John. "We didn't mean to interrupt, but we knocked, and when we came in I cleared my throat as loudly as I could, several times, but it didn't help."

John couldn't believe Angie had come to her husband's defense; it was like she'd read his mind. "It's okay. We needed the break," he said, wiggling his eyes at Joss, but she was still clearly mortified and blushing. He found it charming.

"If you're ready, Joss, I'm going to roll your bed down the hall for those tests," David said. "John, you're welcome to stay until we get back."

"Thanks, Doc," he replied sarcastically. "I think I'll do that."

"I'm ready," Joss said to David. "John, don't stay. Go home and shave and sleep."

John kissed her cheek. "I'll shave, but I'll do it here, and I can sleep when I'm dead. I'm not going home until you do."

"All right. I'll see you in a bit."

David unlocked the wheels on the bed, and turned it toward the door. "I promise it won't hurt, Joss." He looked over his shoulder to Angie. "You coming?"

"I'll be right there," Angie answered. "I want a quick word with John."

When the door closed behind Joss and David, Angie turned to John. She narrowed her eyes and folded her arms against her chest. He hated when Joss gave him that look, and he got the feeling that whatever Angie was about to say would be tantamount to being scolded.

"I'm sorry about…" John stopped himself. He wasn't sorry about the kisses he and Joss shared, so he had to start over. "I got a little carried away with Joss before, but, honestly, she was okay."

"I didn't want to talk about that."

"Then, what? You don't look very happy."

"I'm not." Angie sighed. "What is your problem with David?"

John plopped into the chair that had become like a second home for him. "Angie, I appreciate all he's done for Joss, and all you done, too. Harold believes David is responsible for Joss's turnaround, and I trust him completely, and I love Joss, so I'm extremely appreciative for that. It's just, I don't like his attitude. He's so damn cocky." Feeling the need to look a little further into David's number coming up, John attempted to gain more information on the man. "I can't be the first person who didn't fall at David's feet."

"No, you aren't. I hated him with a passion for years. Then, I got to know the real David, and how he's so misunderstood. And that hate I had for him turned into a deep and abiding love. He's not perfect, but he's not the devil, either. He's an extremely gifted scientist and surgeon, and he's helped a lot of people. He's picked up on your dislike of him, and he really doesn't deserve that."

"What do you want me to do, Angie?" he grumbled, not believing he'd said that.

"Be civil to him and not snarky. If Joss's recovery continues as it has, we won't be here much longer. Think you can do that for a bit?"

"I'll give it a shot," he answered as Angie's cell phone chimed.

She held up a finger. "Excuse me." She looked at the display on the phone, frowned, ended the call, and shoved the phone back into the pocket of her lab coat.

"Telemarketer?" he asked, noting her unhappiness.

"Worse. My ex-husband Jesse." Angie managed to disguise her unhappiness and gave him a smile. "Thank you for keeping an open mind where David is concerned. I really appreciate it."

"No problem. You're a nice lady, and you've been very kind to me. This is the least I can do in return."

"If I'm a nice lady and I married David, he can't be too bad, can he?" Angie smirked, her deep dimples deepening all the more.

John laughed. "Touché."

"I'm going to join David and Joss. She should be back in about thirty to four-five minutes."

"Okay. I'll make some calls in the meantime."

With a wave good-bye, Angie walked out the door leaving John to his calls. The first person he phoned was Taylor. The teen was very happy to hear from him and still quite sad about 'losing' his mother. John asked that Taylor grab a cab and meet him at the address of the safe house in fifteen minutes. Taylor agreed to be there in ten, and ended the call. John smiled. Taylor would be getting a big surprise, and Joss could finally wrap her arms around her baby boy. This reunion was a long time coming.

After his talk with Taylor, John called Harold.

"Mr. Reese," said Harold, answering on the first ring. "It's so wonderful about Det. Carter. How is she feeling?"

"Don't you already know, Harold?" John quipped, putting Harold on speakerphone as he started to shave.

"I learned my lesson after the time you and Joss spent in the morgue. The minute I heard her voice, I ended the connection to your phone."

"I appreciate that. She has a few pains, but she's great. There doesn't seem to be any adverse effects from her anoxia."

"That is wonderful. I told you David Hayward could work miracles."

"Yeah, about that. I was talking with Angie when she got a call from her ex-husband." John admired the left side of shaved face and started on the right. "She didn't answer the call and she didn't seem at all happy about it. It might be nothing, but I think you should look into this guy. All I know right now is his name is Jesse."

* * *

**A/N: I took some liberties in this story. I don't know if we ever knew Joss's birthday or maiden name, so I made those up. Hope the chapter wasn't too long for you.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: As with the last chapter, this one is, too, on the long side. I hope you all enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters do not belong to me. I just like to have a little fun with them. Big thanks to the readers and reviewers. Your interest makes telling this story a joy and not a task.**

* * *

John waited on the sidewalk for Taylor's cab. He had no idea how he would explain the news about Joss. Of course, Taylor would be beside himself with happiness, but chances were he'd also be angry for being in the dark for so long. John drew a deep breath. The most important thing was Taylor would be reunited with his mother. As for the worst… John shook away the thought. He'd hope for the best.

A minute later, a yellow cab pulled over. John approached the taxi and handed the driver a twenty dollar bill as Taylor exited the car. After an enthusiastic word of thanks, the hack drove off.

"How are you, Taylor?"

The teen shrugged as his lip trembled.

"Come here," John said, bringing the teary Taylor in his arms.

"I'm so sick of crying," Taylor said, sniffling.

"It's okay to cry. I've been doing a lot of that myself."

Taylor pulled out of the hug. "I know you miss her, too. Is that why you didn't phone or answer any of my calls or texts?"

"I was in a bad place, Taylor. I'd tossed my phone soon after the shooting, and even if I had it, I doubt I would've answered any calls. But I thought of you and how you were dealing with things."

"I haven't been dealing with things." Taylor said, staring down at his Nikes. "I don't know how. Mom was a cop, a detective, but she was strong. I knew it was a dangerous job, but I never thought she'd …" He met John's gaze. Remnants of tears shone in his brown eyes. "I wish you'd been here."

"Me, too," John whispered, guilt stabbing at his heart.

"Grandma and my dad tried to help me, but Grandma was too hurt and Dad had just come back into my life, he didn't understand. I know you could've helped, John, because you understand. It had been Mom and me for so long, and then you showed up and completed our trio." Taylor sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have said that, but it was how it felt to me. We were a unit, and then you were both gone, and I was by myself."

John fought his tears as he listened to Taylor's words, but on the inside, he was crumbling. The fact Taylor had no idea of the hurting he had been inflicting made it worse. John felt the same way about Taylor as Taylor felt about him. Joss and her son had become his family. But instead of being there for Taylor when he thought he'd lost Joss, he ran. Leaving the boy who was like a son to him to fend for himself. How could he ever make this up to him? "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you," John said. "If I had to do it all over, I would change so many things."

"Life doesn't give do-overs." Taylor chuckled. "Mom used to say that all the time. 'You get one shot, and if you make a mistake, you'll learn from it, if you're lucky.' You mind if I ask you something."

"No, not at all. You can ask me whatever you want." John sighed. That was the least he could do.

"Did you love my mom?"

"Yes," John answered without hesitation. "I loved her with all my heart. And I will always love her."

Taylor nodded. "I understand why you left now."

"You - - you understand?" John repeated, stunned by Taylor's confession.

"Yes. I mean, I don't understand all the intricacies of adult relationships, but feeling the way you do about mom and being the super badass you are, I can get that you'd want to deal with your feelings alone."

John swallowed the knot in his throat. Joss had done an incredible job raising Taylor. If in the same position as the teen, John doubted he would've been so understanding. "I appreciate you saying that, but it doesn't make what I did okay. However, there is something I can do to make things right, to make things better."

"I doubt things will ever be right again, but you being back at least makes it better."

"Thank you for saying that, and I hope you still believe it when I tell you why I called you over here."

* * *

"How do you feel?" Angie asked Joss after the completion of the EEG.

"A little unnerved," Joss answered, taking a few deep breaths and ignoring the dull ache she got with each. None of the three tests hurt, but that last one made her feel like she'd stepped in a Sci-Fi horror film with those electrodes taped to her head. "I have never experienced anything like that before. And I've served in two wars."

"I could've given you a sedative."

"I know, but after twenty-five days in a coma, I think I'm going to swear off any medication that makes me sleepy," Joss said, grimacing as she tried to get comfortable in the bed.

"You're in pain."

"I'm feeling a little discomfort. Isn't that what you doctors say?" Joss remarked with a little smile.

"Something else we doctors say is 'if you're feeling pain, take your medicine.'" Angie frowned.

"I thought I was supposed to be relaxing for a few minutes after that EEG. This doesn't feel very relaxing."

"Oh? Should I bring John in for some of his special TLC?" Angie smirked.

Heat fanned Joss's cheeks as she smiled. "That won't be necessary," she whispered.

"How long have you two been together?"

"What time is it right now?"

Angie looked at her watch. "Eleven o'clock."

"I've been in here about an hour, right?"

"Yes." Angie nodded.

"Okay, we've been together about an hour and fifteen minutes." Joss laughed at Angie's puzzled expression and then groaned. Her chest really hurt.

"Sounds like you have a story, and I would love to hear it, but first I need to check your wound."

After searching a cabinet in the adjoining room, Angie returned with a pair of gloves and unloosened the tie to Joss's hospital gown. "The wound is healing nicely, and scarring should be minimal."

"Scarring?" Joss repeated. She tried to ignore the uneasiness in her stomach. She wasn't a vain woman, but she had more than her share of scars, and with her relationship with John becoming infinitely more serious, she wanted him to find her desirable, not some charity case.

"I guess I don't have to go into medical terminology to explain this, but the gunshot ripped your flesh and caused your sternum to crack, thus the discomfort you're feeling." Angie adjusted Joss's gown and retied it. "Dr. Madan was able to remove the bullet without having to make a large incision and since your sternum was broken but didn't splinter, there were no bone fragments to remove." She pulled off the gloves and tossed them in a nearby waste can.

"Is that all?" Joss asked.

"You had some bruising around the heart, but the electrocardiogram showed the myocardial contusion was relatively mild. Dr. Madan made the diagnosis and David and I have run follow-up EKGs, and you are on the road to recovery. You'll continue feeling discomfort for three to twelve more weeks because of the crack, but if you take it easy, it could possibly be a little less than that."

"How badly was I hurt, Angie? John explained what happened, but I need to know more. Twenty-five days is a long time to be out. A broken sternum did all that?"

"It was a combination of things. When the bullet hit your sternum, the force caused a shake-up inside your chest. It also resulted in serious damage to blood vessels thus a massive amount of bleeding. The loss of blood resulted in shock and cardiac arrest. The shock-induced arrests continued until Dr. Madan could go in and repair the damage. And as bad as your condition was, mere centimeters could have caused it to be so much worse."

"Centimeters?"

"Joss, somebody up there loves you. Two centimeters to the left, and your thoracic artery would've ruptured. The fact you were down for so long and you don't appear to have any lasting brain trauma is a miracle."

"So worrying about scarring seems pretty ridiculous, huh?"

"You're entitled to feel whatever you want after all you've been though. More than anything, you need to take it easy and get some rest, so you can start feeling like your old self again."

"My old self?" Joss repeated. After all she'd been through, could she ever be her old self again? "I wonder if I'll ever know that Joss again."

* * *

"What do you have, Finch?" John asked, leaving Joss's room to take the call.

"I have reason to believe Jesse Hubbard could be a danger to David," Finch answered. John heard the clicking of the keyboard as Harold continued. "He is the former Chief of Police in Pine Valley, Pennsylvania, and until about six months ago, he was Angie's husband."

"Okay, what's his beef with David?"

"The fact David is Angie's husband and he is her ex-husband is his beef. He's certain that David somehow brainwashed Angie into marrying him."

John didn't respond. He found it strange that Angie would want to be married to David, even though she seemed crazy in love with the man.

"Are you still there, Mr. Reese?"

"I'm here. What else do you have on Hubbard?"

"He had gone missing for some twenty years and returned to Pine Valley about seven years ago. Over the last few years, he's been involved in some unsavory activities and was forced to resign from the police department. I'll send the information and a picture to your phone."

"Thanks, Harold. I'll sit down with David later."

"How is Det. Carter?"

John smiled. "Good. She's having some tests right now, but she should be back momentarily."

"That's wonderful. I told you David was a miracle worker."

"Yeah," John muttered. He appreciated all David had done for Joss, but was he supposed to set the man on a pedestal now?

"How is Taylor?"

"Taylor is - -" John spotted David pushing Joss down the hall as Angie walked alongside. "Joss is coming back. I call you after I talk to David." John ended the call and joined Joss and the Haywards down the hall. "How did things go?"

"Fine," Angie answered.

"You look wonderful," Joss said with a smile, caressing John's clean-shaven face. "It's amazing what a shave can do for a man."

"Thanks," he pressed a kiss to her hand. "If you're happy, I'm happy."

"I'm surprised you're still here."

"I told you you're stuck with me. I'm not going anywhere," John said as the Haywards got the bed into the room.

"We'll be back in a couple of hours to check on you, Joss," Angie said once Joss was settled. She picked up the little paper cup holding Joss's pain medicine. "Remember, you need to take this medication."

"I will take the pills in a few minutes, I promise," Joss replied, her brown eyes holding John's.

"Right," Angie grumbled.

"David, if you're not too busy later, I'd like to have a word with you," John said as David walked Angie to the door.

"Okay," David answered, checking his watch. "I'll be in the office or the lab for the next couple of hours."

"Fine. I'll see you in a bit."

"Are you going to apologize for being mean to David?" Joss asked after the Haywards left. "You were a bit short with him earlier."

"No, I'm not going to apologize, because his stupid suggestion warranted a smart reply. Would I like to stay in your room?" John scoffed. "Do you remember me talking to you while you were in your coma?"

"I remember hearing talking, but I can't remember what was said. I want you to tell me why you don't like him. You like Angie, and she's married to him, so…"

"I will explain everything to you later, but right now I want to know if you're up for a visit."

Joss narrowed her eyes and gave him a curious look. "You're not exactly a visitor," she said with a smile.

"I'm not talking about me." John turned toward the little guestroom. "Visitor?"

Taylor stepped out of the room. "Mom," he murmured, walking toward the bed.

Tears streamed down Joss's cheeks. "Baby. My baby," she said, holding her arm out for a hug.

"Be gentle," John reminded Taylor as he approached to hug his mother.

Taylor nodded and then leaned forward and gently placed him arm around his mother's waist and kissed her cheek, but Joss held him closer and tighter and the groan that followed caused Taylor to jump away.

John raced to her side. "Joss, you have got to be careful. I know you're excited to see Taylor, but you have to take it easy. You have a broken bone in your chest."

"I will. I'm sorry," Joss said, taking slow breaths."

"You don't have to apologize." John brushed his finger against her cheek. "I just worry about you."

"I know. T, come back over. I want to look at you."

Taylor eased his way to Joss's side. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, Mom."

"You didn't," Joss said, clinging to her son's hand. "I love you so much, that when I saw you, I wanted to hug your neck so tight." Joss looked down at her chest. "I'm just a little worse for the wear right now."

"Mom, you look absolutely fantastic. When John told me you were alive, I…" Taylor hung his head and covered his weepy eyes. That was the teen's initial reaction when John told him about Joss. Then came his time for disbelief, and finally realization. He was so happy about Joss, he wasn't at all angry about not knowing the truth. "You know, I never thought I'd understand the concept of happy tears." He looked up and smiled. "I do now. Today, I got the most incredible miracle ever."

"My exact words on the day you were born, sweetie." Joss kissed his hand. "Now, how has school been? I hope you've been doing your homework, staying on top of your lesson, and not staying out too late."

Holding on to his mother's hand, Taylor perched himself on the edge of the bedside chair and started informing Joss on school and his world in general. With Joss in mother hen overdrive, John knew she was on the road to recovery. He listened in on the conversation for a while and then decided to let them have some time alone.

"I'm going to catch up with David and leave you two alone for a bit." He squeezed Taylor's shoulder and gave Joss's lips a quick peck. "I won't be gone long." John turned to Taylor. "You'll stick around until I come back?"

"Yeah, for sure. I'm not going anywhere. I'm in desperate need of a Mom fix."

"While you're getting your fix, see to it that she takes her pain medicine. It's right over here," John said, pointing to the table on Joss's left side.

"Consider it done."

John frowned at Taylor. "Hey, since when do you make it a point to see that I take my medicine?"

"Oh, that's easy. Since you got shot and I thought you were dead," Taylor said matter-of-factly. John chuckled as Joss rolled her eyes. "I'm going to do everything I can to make sure your death doesn't happen until you're an old lady with great-great grandchildren who've had the opportunity to sit on your knee."

With Joss in absolutely great hands, John made his way down the hall in search of David. As he approached the Haywards' office, he heard David shouting. "Cara, your opinions don't count anymore. Oliver is with me and that's where he's going to stay!" Moments of quiet followed. "Well, I'm not the one in prison now, am I? Stop calling me! We have nothing to discuss." The sound of the phone slamming into the cradle was the next thing John heard. "Is this why you wanted our calls to be forward here? Because you knew she was going to call?"

"She calls at least twice a month, David. She cares about her son. Don't you think you were a little harsh?"

"Hell no. Not at all. The whole time I was in prison she lied to me, telling me she had an abortion, while she had Oliver to herself. Now, she's in prison because she fell for Junior's lies and lost her license. I wouldn't even know Oliver existed had he not had that allergic reaction to those peanuts and called Cara 'Mommy' in front of me. Sorry, I can't squeeze out an ounce of sympathy for her.

"She's still Oliver's mother."

"Yeah, and she's still going to be in prison until Oliver is eighteen years old, because she tried kill Adam Chandler for that bastard son of his she decided to marry. I don't recall visits from Oliver when I was in prison."

"She only wants him to spend time with Griffin and her mother. They are Oliver's family."

"I let them visit."

"Only when you're around."

"Well, that's more than I got from them. Oliver's uncle and grandmother are lucky they get to see him at all." Silence followed David's words. "Please, Angie, don't make me out to be the bad guy. I didn't create this situation."

"I know you're a good guy, that's why I want you to be a little easier on Cara. Just think about it, please?"

"For you, Angela, I'll do anything."

Certain Harold would be all over that call and the people mentioned, John waited a few minutes outside the office for the low moans on the inside to subside. When five minutes turned to ten, the moans increased, and expletives accompanied their shouted names and even louder groans, John decided one good turned deserved another, and knocked on the door. "David, it's John."

"Damn!" David barked.

"We'll be right there," Angie answered, as she sternly warned 'stop' to her husband.

A couple of minutes later, the door opened to a smeared lipstick smile from Angie. "I'm sorry you had to wait, John," she offered.

"No problem," John replied with a grin as he looked at the flushed and peeved David. Newlywed be damned, David had this coming.

"He's all yours." Angie looked over her shoulder at David. "You coming upstairs for lunch?"

"Wouldn't miss it," David answered with a quick kiss to her lips. "You need to fix your lipstick, babe."

Angie pursed her lips and with a wave, made a quick exit.

"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything," John managed to say without laughing.

David answered by brushing his fingers against his lips and buttoning the unloosened third button on his dark shirt. "What can I do for you, John?"

"Actually, it's what I can do for you." John thought to take a seat on the couch but quickly changed his mind and sat in the seat across from the desk. "I have it under good authority that somebody wants you dead."

David laughed. "What?" He dropped into one of the two leather chairs behind the large mahogany desk and dragged his fingers through his disheveled dark hair. "And you know this because?"

"Because I know," John snapped, not blinking at David's blithe reaction. "You're welcome to catch a cap in your ass if you want. I just thought you'd like to know it was coming." John stood and headed for the door.

"Wait a minute." David caught up to him. "Are you serious?"

"I don't joke about life and death situations. I don't know who, why, or when, I just know somebody wants you out. I'm going to do what I can to prevent it from happening, but I suggest you not put yourself in a position to be a sitting duck, Doc."

* * *

**A/N: The miracle of fan fiction is you get to change things. Previous viewers of All My Children will get that in regard to Cara, who I was never crazy about. **


	9. Chapter 9

David dragged his fingers through his hair and groaned. "Okay, somebody wants me dead, I have to deal with that. But why are you helping me? I'm not one of your favorite people."

"My job is to save lives. It doesn't matter who it is I'm helping. I don't pick and choose, even when I want to," John said, thinking of Carl Elias and all the trouble saving him caused, including death threats to Joss and the kidnapping of Taylor. David riled his nerves, but he was no mobster.

"What about Angela?"

"Angie isn't in danger. You won't be either. Be alert, but don't look over your shoulder. You're going to be fine."

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for that?"

"You don't have much of a choice."

"There are always choices. I can't say I'm not a little uneasy about the idea of someone wanting me dead, but this isn't the first time."

"Why doesn't the idea of somebody wanting you dead before now surprise me?" John remarked with a shake of his head.

"Do you have something you need to get off your chest? Because, personally, I'm sick to death of your snide comments." David's dark eyes narrowed and his face reddened. "I've done nothing to warrant your wrath, but if I'm supposed to put my life in your hands, I want to be certain this danger coming my way isn't coming from you. You look like a businessman, but I know better."

John glared at David. "If I wanted you out of the way, it would already be done, and I assure you, you wouldn't have seen it coming," he said, his tone low, direct.

The humorless laughter coming from David did nothing to ease the desire John had to dropkick the man out the window. "And hearing that sort of talk is supposed to make me comfortable with you saving me from impending death?" David grunted. "You have to be kidding."

"You don't have to be comfortable with it. Your discomfort won't keep me from doing the job I need to do."

"If that's the case, tell me where the hell all of your hostility toward me is coming from? Admittedly, I've done a lot of things in my past that I am not proud of, but I don't recall any of that being directed at you."

"Why do you care?"

"Generally, I don't give one damn what anyone thinks of me, but I have a wife who constantly tells me I'm not such a bad person. And, I don't know, maybe I'm starting to believe it. Seeing as you have a problem with me, I'd like to know why."

"You want to know why? Fine. I think you're a cocky son of a bitch, who somehow lucked into finding a wonderful woman to love and marry you. A man who possesses an incredible gift that's for rent to the highest bidder, which is pretty damn despicable," John said, his voice growing lower, more deathly with every word. David had literally dragged Joss from the brink of death, and just thinking of how many others he could save and didn't… John clenched his jaw. The man's disregard lit a fire in him and made him want to snap David's neck. "How much did Harold offer you to come here and help Joss, huh? A million dollars? Two?"

"Actually, he offered me whatever I wanted." David cupped his chin as if in deep thought. "And considering he's a billionaire, my options were pretty open." John's fists tightened. He wanted to smack the smug off that bastard's face. "I considered the fact he interrupted my honeymoon with this request of his, and after talking with Angela about it, I decided to come to New York because _she asked me_ to try to help Joss. That's why I'm here. I didn't ask Harold for a damn thing, and have no plans of doing so."

John studied David closely, not believing a word coming out of his mouth. "You don't strike me as a man who'd do anything without an ulterior motive."

"I was that man until about a year ago, when the friendship Angie had offered me six years earlier became more than platonic. My feelings for her had changed long before she came to me, but I knew what her marriage to that jackass Hubbard meant to her, and I never felt I was worthy of her, so I never acted on them." David brushed his thumb against his platinum wedding band. Intrigued, John waited for him to say more. "Not only did I love Angela, I respected her. So when she came to my place one night crying and upset about another lie Hubbard had told her, I could've easily taken advantage, but I didn't. I held her, comforted her, and gave her my bed while I took the couch. When she came back to me a month later and confessed she had strong feelings for me, I knew I never wanted to be without her again, and I never was. Her love for me makes me want to be the man she deserves, and that's what I'm trying to be. So, if I have an ulterior motive, it's to make my wife happy. That's why I'm in New York. I don't have a license, and I had every intention of telling Harold no when he asked me to help Joss, but Angie changed my mind."

Much to his dismay, John accepted David's words as truth. He'd always found David to be a lot like him, and after listening to his story, he believed it all the more. The similarities in the tales of their loves proved that fact even more. No, Joss wasn't married when they met, but he didn't interfere with her entanglement with Beecher, and he never believed he would ever be good enough for her. With his past and all the bad things he'd done, he'd never wanted her to contend with John Reese the monster. But when he thought he'd lost her, without ever telling her how much he loved her, he believed he'd never have another sober day, not with Joss's voice haunting him. But when he'd learned Joss was alive, his fears of her growing to hate him for the man he'd been had disappeared. He had to tell her how he felt, and hope that she'd give him the gift of being in his life. And like the miracle of her coming out of her coma, she said she loved him, too. He knew firsthand what the love of a good woman did for a man, and clearly the same had happened to David. "That's an incredible story, Hayward," John said, meeting David's gaze without the red film of fury egging him into attacking the man.

"Incredible, but true. Angela has transformed me. I'm not perfect, as she's quick to remind me," he said with a little chuckle, "but I'm not as bad as I was, so that's progress."

"I guess it is. You know, I was ready to call you a liar before you even started your story, and truth be told, when Harold was telling me about you, I stopped listening when I heard you weren't licensed. But there is obviously a lot more to you than being a former doctor with a dark past who practices medicine on the behest of reclusive billionaires."

"There is more to me than those things you mentioned." David perched himself on the edge of the desk and smiled. "They are Angela, Oliver, and AJ. My wife, my son, and my grandson. I bet that surprises you."

John crossed his arms and shook his head. "No, it doesn't. Prior to hearing you talk about Angie, and finally seeing you as more than an arrogant asshole, it's obvious you have a heart and you know what's important. You're human after all. You should show that part of yourself more often."

"I'll think about it." David checked his watch. "It's about lunchtime, and I don't want to keep Angie waiting. Also, I can't believe you would leave Joss alone for this long."

"Her son is with her, and he's keeping a very close watch."

"But I'm sure you still want to get back to her. So, are we done?"

"Yeah, just about." John cleared his throat. Joss had wanted him to apologize to David for 'being mean,' and now that he knew the man better, he could see how he'd been a bit judgmental. "Look, Hayward, I might have been a bit …"

"Might've been?" David folded his arms and stared in response. "Might've been, John?"

"Okay, I misjudged you, and I apologize." John extended his hand. "No hard feelings?"

"No hard feelings." David shook his hand. "Besides, I'm in no condition to deny anyone an apology."

"Well, I won't hold you any longer. You enjoy that _lunch_ with Angie," John said with a little chuckle, following David to the door.

"I have every intention of doing so." David grabbed the doorknob and turned to John. "I promised to take Angie out to dinner. Is that possible?"

"Do whatever you would normally. And like I said, don't look suspicious. Just be yourself."

"Easier said than done, but I'll give it a try." David opened the door, allowed John to pass, and then followed him out. "Thank you, John."

"Thank me when this threat has been dealt with." David nodded and made his way to the oak door disguising the elevator. When the elevator door closed, John pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number.

"That you, Glasses?" Det. Fusco asked after the first ring.

"No, it's not, Lionel."

"Wonderboy! Long time no hear. Where you at these days?"

"I need a favor, Lionel," John said, purposely ignoring his question. "I need you to keep eyes on someone."

* * *

"Mom, if you want to rest, you can." Taylor left the chair and pressed a kiss to Joss's forehead. "I'm sure your medication has kicked in."

Joss shook her head. "No, no. I've already had too much rest," she replied, determined to see stars sparkle in the night sky and awake early enough to see the sun rise in the distance. "The medication doesn't make me sleepy. Besides, I want to look at you. You've grown since I last saw you." Joss cupped Taylor's cheek. "My little man isn't so little anymore." A tear slid down her cheek. "Twenty-five days. I've missed so much."

"Oh, please, Mom, don't go there." Taylor brushed her tears away. "So, I've grown an inch or so, that's what teen boys do. The only thing you've really missed is seeing me so sad."

"Oh, baby." Joss felt more tears coming, her heart breaking for the needless sadness her son suffered, but she closed her eyes tightly for several moments until the sensation passed. She didn't want to upset him with more tears.

"I gave you a hard time about curfew sometimes, but when I thought you were gone, I would've given anything to be with you on the couch, listening to you complain about me being fifteen minutes late."

"I'm going to remember you said that. You're not going off to college for a few months yet."

Taylor groaned and rolled his eyes playfully. "What have I done?" he joked.

Joss smiled at her laughing son. She'd only been awake a few hours, and was still coming to terms with the fact she's been in a coma for over three weeks, but she couldn't get over how much she'd missed her boy. It really felt like she hadn't seen him in weeks. And she couldn't even give him a big hug. Her smile stretched as she thought of the little girl who was probably hugging and kissing her baby to his heart's content.

"What are you grinning about, Mom?" Taylor asked, his brow arched curiously.

"I'm thinking about the little girl you've been seeing. What's her name? Lauren?"

Taylor scratched absently at his temple. "Why are you asking?"

"Because I've been indisposed for nearly a month, and I want to know everything and everyone in your life. So, you still seeing Lauren? Do you really like her?"

Before Taylor could answer, there was a knock at the door. "Come in," he answered quickly and enthusiastically.

"I'm not done with you yet," Joss warned her son, before turning to the door.

"Are you up to a visit, Detective?" Harold asked, poking his head inside the room.

"Of course, Finch! Get in here."

Harold hobbled inside, greeted Taylor, and stopped at Joss's bed, kissing her cheek. "It's so good to see you awake."

"It's good to see you, too. I understand I owe you a lot of thanks."

"All you owe me is a speedy recovery." Harold adjusted his glasses. "How are you feeling?"

"Achy, but good." Joss sighed and pressed her hand to her chest. She couldn't wait until she could breathe deeply or laugh without feeling like somebody was hitting her with a shovel. "Honestly, I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you. From what John and Angie have told me, you spared no expense in getting me back to the conscious world."

"Joss, please, no thanks or repayment is necessary. I consider you a friend. And because I have so few, I hold the ones I have in high regard. I could never do too much for my friends. So, no more gratitude. In fact, if you think about it, I'm being selfish."

The discomfort Harold displayed at Joss's heartfelt words of thanks made her see the best repayment she could give him was to stop embarrassing him, so she obliged. "Okay, selfish Finch, you win."

Harold smiled. "I wasn't interrupting anything when I came in, was I?" he asked, looking from mother to son.

"No, you weren't," Taylor said, leaving the chair and offering it to Harold. "Just chit-chat."

"Actually, my sweet little boy was about to tell me all about his girlfriend, weren't you, T?" Joss said, wanting to cross her arms to let Taylor know she meant business, but not wanting to aggravate the dull ache in her chest. The pain medicine worked wonders, but she was far from one-hundred percent. However, she was well aware that her son was dodging her questions about Miss Lauren, and she didn't like it at all. The implications… It made her very uncomfortable.

Taylor chuckled uneasily. "Mom," he managed to say between his tense laughter. "That pain medicine must have you feeling really good right now. She's been funny today, Harold." His laughter became more exaggerated.

While Joss didn't crack a smile at her son's ridiculous laughter, Harold stared at Taylor, his face a mask of confusion. "Did I miss the punch line?" he asked.

"No," Joss answered flatly.

Taylor's laughter ceased.

"I'm back," John said, breezing into the room and quickly kissing Joss's lips, making her forget about Taylor for the moment. "My three favorite people in the same room, and I heard laughter. Did I miss a joke?"

John's words brought Joss's attention back to her boy. "Far from it," she answered, her gaze fixed on her son. "But if Taylor doesn't start talking fast, he's gonna be laughing 'til he's crying, because he's going to be confined to his bedroom until he's eighteen."

**Author's Note: Mama Bear Joss is back. Weak, but back. :-) Reading and Reviewing is most welcome.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in this chapter, but I wanted to write it a certain way, and editing took a couple of days. I really appreciate all those who are reading and reviewing, it is truly inspiring. In Chapter 10, we have caring, sharing, and some hurting. Happy Reading.**

* * *

John looked from Joss to Taylor and back again. A scowl of unhappiness marred Joss's lovely face, and anger flashed in her beautiful brown eyes. He'd seen that look before, her pissed mother look. What could Taylor have done to rile Joss so fast? "What am I missing?" he asked.

"That is the question of the day," Joss answered, glancing at him for a moment before returning her attention to her squirming son.

"Mom, really, you are making something out of nothing." Taylor grunted. "If there was something to tell, I would…"

"Say nothing," Joss finished in a huff. "I've been in a coma for almost a month, but I haven't forgotten how to read my son."

"I do believe the time has come for me to leave," said Finch, limping to the other side of the bed. "Detective, it's been wonderful speaking with you, and I will be back to see you tomorrow."

Joss pulled her attention from Taylor to give Finch a smile. "Thank you for stopping by, Harold. I look forward to our visit tomorrow."

"So do I." He turned to John. "Mr. Reese, I will talk with you later."

After Harold's hasty retreat, Joss returned angry, questioning eyes to her son. "I'm waiting," she said, the words measured, direct.

"Uh, Joss, sweetheart, I know you're desperate for answers from Taylor, but just so I can be a useful third party, can one of you please tell me how a happy reunion turned into this?" John asked, looking from Joss to Taylor and back again. He looked over his shoulder when Joss remained mum. "Taylor?"

Taylor threw up his hands. "John, your guess is as good as mine," he said, looking over at his vexed mother.

"Boy, don't you dare give me that!" Joss closed her eyes and grunted.

John bit back the expletive that almost rushed out of his mouth. "That's it!" He pointed to the door. "Taylor, outside."

Shoulders slumped, Taylor headed for the door.

"I'm not finished with…" Joss began.

John pressed his finger to her lips. "For now you are," he broke in. He returned his gaze to Taylor and pointed at the door. "Go."

As Taylor exited, he ran into a nurse. "Pardon me," he said.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I should pay closer attention," John heard Nurse Linda say.

"No problem," he said, continuing on his way out.

The blond, fiftyish, full-figured nurse came in dragging a mobile blood pressure monitor. Linda had been one of the two nurses on duty when John had arrived at the facility. She had been extremely nice, bringing John coffee, danish, and sandwiches during his vigil. He didn't have much of an appetite, but he'd appreciated her care. "I need to check vitals and take care of a few things for the detective," she said with a pleasant smile.

"That's fine, Linda, I need to step out for a minute," John replied. He leaned close to Joss. "You need to take it easy. You are pushing yourself and don't think I didn't notice your discomfort before." He ignored her frown and kissed her softly. "I'll find out what's going on with Taylor, okay?"

Joss nodded. "Okay."

He kissed her again. "I love you."

"I love you."

The nurse was mumbling about how sweet John was when he made his way out the door. He'd been called a lot of things in his life, but sweet, not so much. Taylor stopped his pacing and sighed when John approached. He loved the young man like a son, but had Taylor been twelve years younger and three feet shorter, John probably would've put him over his knee. "What the hell was that in there?" he barked.

"Mom was asking about Lauren, this girl I had been seeing, and all of sudden, she jumped - -"

"Stop." John dragged his hand on his forehead and massaged his temples. "Your mother is a homicide detective, Taylor, she does not jump to conclusions. You're not telling her something, and whatever it is, you're going to tell me right now."

* * *

"Your blood pressure is a little elevated, but I'm sure kisses from your handsome friend would do that to anybody," Nurse Linda said with a chuckle. Joss couldn't help smiling. She'd been fighting her attraction to John from the moment she saw him in the holding room at the station. Although his hygiene and dress left a bit to be desired, his eyes… The look in his blue eyes, beyond the hurt and sadness, was a spark, and it touched her. And before she knew it, she had fallen in love with him. And to her delight, he loved her, too. They were a couple now, and had a future to look forward to together. A future that included making all the intimate dreams she'd had of them together a reality. She had no doubt that John would be one hell of a lover, and she couldn't wait to find out the truth in her assessment.

"I need to change the bandage on your wound." Linda walked over to the cabinet in the far corner and returned with ointment, gauze, and bandages. Joss couldn't help wondering what this wound looked like. She had to see it.

When Linda lowered the gown and removed the bandage, Joss cleared her throat. "I would like to see it, Linda. May I?" she asked, both dreading and anticipating the moment.

"Of course you can," Linda answered. "You sure?"

"Dr. Angie said it was healing quite well, and I'm curious."

Linda nodded. "I'll get you a hand mirror." She returned to the cabinet in the corner and returned with a pink mirror. "You ready?"

Ignoring what seemed like a pep talk from Linda, Joss nodded. "Yes, I'm ready."

The nurse lowered the mirror above the end of the wound. Joss steeled herself and then lowered her gaze. Upon seeing the injury, Angie's words flooded her mind. '_The wound is healing nicely, and scarring should be minimal_. _… the gunshot ripped your flesh…' _Joss closed her eyes for several moments."Okay. Thank you."

Linda placed the mirror on the bedside table, and then applied new bandaging while discussing the rapid healing of the wound. Joss heard the words, but she wasn't at all listening. Somehow, what she saw and what Angie had said didn't fit. After checking Joss's blood pressure once more and being satisfied with the new reading, Linda departed.

The hush of the door closing behind the nurse broke the dam holding back Joss's tears. Her hand slid to where the gown covered the fresh bandage. _Minimal scarring? _ She didn't see minimum scarring. She saw lots of stitches, stitches that would leave maximum scars.

The cop in her didn't care about that. The most important thing was getting the bad guys. As a mother, stitches and scars and sick days took a backseat to taking care of her son. But beyond being a cop and a mother, she was a woman. A woman that cared about how she looked. She was pretty, she got way more attention on the streets than she ever wanted, but when she wasn't in cop and mom mode, she enjoyed dressing up and having attractive men do double takes when she walked by. What heterosexual woman didn't? Now, she had her man. A man that made her appreciate being a woman, and more importantly, being the woman that he loved.

Joss brushed away the tears streaming down her cheeks. But she wasn't that woman anymore. John thought his Joss had died on the street that November night. She couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for him to realize that she had.

* * *

"And this girl is pregnant?" John said, barely able to catch his breath as he considered all Taylor had said. He'd gotten a bad feeling when Taylor suggested they go somewhere more private than the hallway to talk, but when they had arrived at the sitting room a few feet away and the teen sprang this on him, he was not prepared.

"I don't know yet. Maybe." Taylor dragged his hand over his head and sighed as he continued pacing. "She said she's late."

"Late?" John groaned. "I know Joss has talked to you, and I've talked to you. I've given you condoms, Taylor. How could you let this happen?"

"I don't know, John," he answered flippantly. "My mother was dead, you were gone, and I was lost. That's how. I went to Lauren, and one thing led to another. I didn't want to think, to remember."

"You're right, you didn't think," John answered harshly. Taylor rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry." John expelled a loud, deep breath. "Do you love this Lauren?"

"I think she's great. She's smart and pretty, and…"

"Do you love her?"

Taylor stopped pacing and rested against the wall in front of John. "No," he murmured. "She can't be pregnant. It was our first time ever. You can't get pregnant the first time."

John bore his eyes into Taylor, trying his best not to leave his chair and shake him for saying something so monumentally stupid. "You know damn well it only takes one time. It doesn't have to be a good first time. Hell, it could've been a forgettable experience for the both of you, but it doesn't change the fact it happened."

"I think you're more upset about this than mom will be. I thought you would understand."

"You thought I would understand?" Taylor lowered his gaze from John's hard glare. John sucked in a breath. He'd been jaded. Joss had done such a good job raising Taylor, he didn't think of the boy as a typical teen. He got an eye-opener today. "Did you expect me to give you a pat on the back and say '_Attaboy, you son of a gun,'_ huh?"

"I thought you'd be a bit calmer." Taylor slid in the chair next to the wall. "How old were you when you had your first time?"

"Too young, that's how old." John sighed. "This might sound ridiculous to you, but I always assumed your first time would be with a young lady at college." Taylor chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it's funny, especially considering I gave you condoms, but I believed it. You're a mature young man, and I figured you'd want making love for the first time to mean something. You know, to be important. Humph. Maybe I'm projecting. I was fifteen and stupid when I had my first time. A girl from down the street came over to my house one summer day and said, '_You wanna do it?'_" John laughed at the youthful memory. "An hour later, when her mom left for some meeting, I came over, and five minutes after that, I was walking back home. I can't even remember her name. It didn't mean a thing."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Taylor mumbled, looking at the floor.

"You're right, there's not. But you're thinking like a seventeen-year-old who's never been in love. When you fall in love, mindless sex just won't do." John's thoughts went to Joss. He'd waited his whole life for someone like her, his one. He thought he had it in Jessica, but falling in love with Jocelyn Carter showed him what true love was really about. So many nights he'd fallen asleep with thoughts of his beautiful Joss filling his dreams. Sensual dreams of her lovely legs wrapped around his waist as he filled her to completion, his name falling softly from her full lips. Many a night he'd awaken with a start, sweaty and hard for her. And, now, he counted the minutes until he could truly make Joss his. A smile stretched his lips. "Total intimacy. Complete oneness in heart, soul, and body with that perfect one. That's the magic of love. And one day, if you're lucky, you'll understand what I'm talking about."

Taylor bristled. "Yeah. Considering your perfect one is my mother…" He made a gagging sound. "TMI, dude."

"Well, your pregnancy scare has compelled me to inform you that waiting for love isn't a bad thing. Had you waited until you were in love, you wouldn't be in your current situation." Taylor grumbled something incoherently. "Who else knows about this?"

"Nobody. Who was I gonna tell? Dad? Grandma? If Mom wasn't so good at being my mom, you probably wouldn't know." Taylor groaned. "Had I known Mom was alive, this situation wouldn't exist." He buried his face in his hands. "I have messed up so bad."

"I can't argue with you on that. This is the last thing Joss needs."

"You can't tell her."

"I can't lie to her. I won't. Joss knows something is up. And when I get back in that room, she's expecting to know what."

"I'll tell her Lauren and I are having some couple issues, okay? That's not a lie."

"It's not the truth, either."

"It's an honest response until I know more. Please, John."

John frowned. "Damn! Okay, I'll let you talk, but if Joss asks me, I'm going to tell her the truth."

"I'm fine with that."

"When do you expect to hear word from Lauren?"

"Any minute now. She had an appointment at eleven this morning. She's scared, but desperate to know what's going on."

"I suspect you're feeling the same way." John pat the empty chair beside him. Taylor sat, leaning forward. After being decidedly unsympathetic, John looked at the tense young man and his heart ached for him. "Whatever you need, Taylor, I'll be here for you."

"You don't have to say that. I know you're angry."

"It's not so much anger, as it's …"

"Disappointment?" Taylor scoffed. "Yeah, well, that's worse."

"I'm sorry, Taylor. When your seventeen-year-old son tells you he might have gotten a girl pregnant, it's not exactly a time to jump for joy."

The makings of a little smile turned the corners of Taylor's lips. "You really think of me as your son?" he asked.

"I wouldn't waste this paternal outrage on just anybody." John wrapped his arm around Taylor's shoulders and play boxed his head. "You teenagers."

The ringing of Taylor's cell ended their little moment. Pulling out the phone, he looked at the display. "It's Lauren," he said breathing deeply.

"Answer it."

The teens brown eyes widened.

John gave Taylor's shoulder a supportive squeeze. "You're not alone, it's going to be okay. Answer the call."

Taylor nodded and answered in the middle of the third ring. "Hi, Lauren."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: First and foremost, thank you to all the readers. Your reviews, thoughts, and suggestions go a long way in keeping my muse active. I have to apologize for the delay in this chapter. In an attempt at recapturing my youth with my three-year-old nephew, I ended up spraining my right wrist, my writing and doing everything wrist, which made it hard to do most everything. But, after fighting the drowsiness of pain medicine, I managed to get this chapter finished. I apologize in advance for any errors I didn't catch.**

* * *

John groaned inwardly at the helpless glance Taylor cast his way. The news the teen had received obviously not what they'd been expecting. Taylor was going to be a father. Joss's seventeen-year-old son was going to make her a grandmother. He shook his head while Taylor continued with the call. This should not be happening for several more years down the road.

"Don't worry, Lauren, we'll make a decision. I'll come by your place later. Yeah. Bye." Taylor ended the call and clutched the phone in his hand. "Well, Grandpa, what are we going to do?" he asked, staring absently at the phone.

_Grandpa. _John definitely didn't mind the title being used on him, even in jest. He'd long ago figured that if he ever heard the title it would be because of Taylor. He just wished to hell he wasn't hearing it so soon. "What _you'll_ do is whatever Lauren thinks is best." John gave Taylor's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "How do you feel?"

Tear-filled brown eyes stared back at him. "Scared to death," Taylor answered, a catch in his throat. John offered him a shoulder and Taylor had a good cry. A few moments later, the young man collected himself. "When I found out Mom was alive, I thought I was finished with the tears."

"Well, I think you had good reason to get that cry out. Now, you have to put away the tears and pull yourself together. You've been thrust into manhood." John paused, hating he used that particular word. "You're going to be a father."

"This was so not the plan."

"Well, when you have unprotected sex, this is a likely result." Taylor frowned. "Unplanned pregnancies have a way of changing plans."

"I don't want to change my plans. I've got college and engineering school ahead."

"What you've got ahead is a baby. This summer is going to change your plans in more ways than one."

"Not necessarily. I don't want any part of this. I don't love Lauren, and I won't be doing her any favors by pretending that I do. When I see her, I'm going to suggest she have an abortion."

John grunted. This boy had no idea. Seventeen, foolish, and responsible for creating a life. "You're going to suggest?" John repeated, not trying to hide the derision in his voice.

Taylor nodded. "That's right."

"The one and only decision you have in this whole situation got made when you supplied a sperm. Now, all the decisions are Lauren's. She is the one carrying this child."

"That's not fair! That child is as much mine as it is hers."

"That may be, but that baby is a part of her. And what you want doesn't play into any of that."

"So, even if I don't want to be a father, I don't have a choice."

"You made the choice when you had unprotected sex."

Taylor scoffed. "Damn, John, how many times are you going to keep saying that?"

"Until it sinks in!" John leapt from his chair and stared down at this young man he loved like a son. This child who disregarded everything his mother had told him. Everything he'd told him, because he was sad. He couldn't dwell on that. It would just make him angry. "This baby is not going to go away because you want it to, because he or she is an inconvenience."

"Are you saying I should ruin the rest of my life because of a mistake? Huh? Get a job at a fast food joint because I have to provide for a child I don't want? To give up on a career I've wanted since I was eight years old and got straight A's to help make it happen, huh? How is that right?" Taylor slouched in the chair and folded his arms, sulking like a spoiled five-year-old.

Today, John saw a side of Joss's baby boy he never knew existed. Did this news turn Taylor into a selfish brat or was this always the case and he never noticed? He pushed aside the thought. No, he knew Taylor, this response was all brand new. No doubt borne of fear. "You keep saying 'I' when it's not just you anymore. Tell me, what's right when a child is involved?" A bolt of anger flashed through John. "Damn it, sit up and snap out of your 'poor me' routine!" he blasted, beyond pissed with Taylor's ridiculous behavior. Sighing deeply, Taylor lowered his arms and sat up straight, meeting John's gaze. "It's time to man up. You have fathered a child, and regardless of what happens, that's not going to change. Raising a child is about a lot more than providing money. I have money. If this child is brought into the world, it will want for nothing. The most important thing is accepting responsibility. You need to tell your mother this news."

Taylor looked at John as if he'd sprouted a third eye in the middle of his forehead, but John didn't blink. "C'mon, you have to be kidding. I haven't even wrapped my brain around this and you want me to tell Mom? A homicide detective? She knows ways to kill me and keep it so hush-hush that if someone asked about me, they'd buy whatever story she told. And you want me to tell her I got a girl pregnant. A girl I wasn't even serious about? No way."

"Yes way. Joss will be upset, disappointed even, I was those things, but she'll get over it, because she loves you. We both do."

"It was hard enough dealing with the look you gave me when Lauren being pregnant was just a possibility. Mom has a way of cutting through me. Being upset about curfew is one thing, but this disappointment..." Taylor's words ended in a deep sigh.

"I'll stick around when you tell her, if you want," John offered, knowing Joss's reaction could very well be as bad as Taylor figured it would. "I might be able to lessen the blow, if it comes to that."

"Thank you, John. You being there definitely couldn't hurt."

"Okay, it's done." John gave Taylor's arm a pat. "You ready?"

Taylor blew out a breath. "As I'll ever be," he said.

"It's going to be okay," John assured him. "Let's go."

* * *

Following a quick rap on Joss's door, Angie stuck her head inside the room. Joss had hoped it was John and Taylor returning. They'd been gone for so long, and the longer they were away, the worst her dread became. She had a feeling she definitely didn't want to entertain, because if it was what she thought…She didn't want to think it.

"Can we come in?" Angie asked.

"Sure," Joss answered, bracing herself for the pain as she shifted in a more upright position. Turning to her doctors, she noted the beaming smiles on their faces. "You two seem extremely happy."

"We had a great lunch," they answered in unison and laughed.

Joss offered a weak smile. She shouldn't have asked. It made her think of all the sweet dreams she had of John that would never become reality."

"So, Detective, how have you been feeling the last couple of hours?" David asked, looking over her chart.

"Okay. The pain is better, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt like hell."

Angie groaned. "You know, I can appreciate you not wanting to take medication that will make you drowsy after what you've been through, but enduring unnecessary pain isn't exactly the smartest option in the world," she offered with a disapproving shake of the head. "I know you were anxious to visit with John and your son without a foggy head, so I'm surprised they aren't here with you."

"They stepped out to have some man talk when Nurse Linda came in to check my vitals and to ch- change my bandaging," Joss said, glancing down as she pressed her hand to her chest, hoping to keep new tears from surfacing.

Angie touched David's arm. "I'll finish up here," she whispered too loudly, taking the chart from his hand.

Joss prepared herself for the speech Angie would give her about how well the wound was healing and that the scar wasn't a big deal in the grand scheme of things. She really didn't want to hear that, because intellectually, she knew all that already, but she didn't want to think intellectually, she wanted to think like the woman she was. A woman that had to throw out more than half of her shirts, blouses, and dresses because they exposed her chest. A woman who had to find a way to give up the man she loved because he deserved better than damaged goods.

When David left, Angie stepped closer to Joss and dropped the chart to the foot of the bed. "So?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"What?" Joss replied.

"I gather you saw your injury when Nurse Linda changed the bandage."

"Yeah, I saw the injury. Is being constantly told it's healing wonderfully somehow supposed to make me feel okay with having a hundred stitches in my chest?"

"Twenty-nine."

"It doesn't matter. When you said minimal scarring, I took it to heart. It scared me, but I tried to keep my fears in perspective. I had been shot in the chest, so I was prepared for a wound, but what I was not prepared for is what is tantamount to carnage."

"You're over exaggerating," Angie replied with a frown. Joss looked away from Angie and rolled her eyes. What else would she expect her doctor to say? Angie walked in the path of Joss's gaze. "Listen to me, you just saw this wound for the first time, of course it would appear heinous to you. You don't know what it looked like before."

"What it looked like before is a lot like how it looks now, just a bit rawer," Joss replied with bitter resignation. "Angie, I'm no stranger to scars. Thirteen stitches from a Cesarean section with Taylor and a nasty burn on my side from a land mine in Fallujah. I know scars."

"Yeah, well, I know wounds. And I know yours is still healing and will continue to do so as the stitches dissolve over the next four to twelve weeks. Dissolve, Joss," Angie repeated, the words measured, succinct. "You were so badly hurt, Dr. Madan didn't think you would make it, but, still, he gave you stitches that would leave minimal scarring. The healing of this wound is going extremely well, as you've heard quite a lot, and I have absolutely no reason to suspect it won't continue in the same manner." Angie shoved her hands into to the pockets of her lab coat. "You know, I really don't understand your worry about scarring. You have cheated death, you have a son you can't say enough about, and a man who loves you very much. Nothing else should matter."

Tears filled Joss's eyes. "You're right," she answered through the knot in her through the knot in her throat. "I have a man who loves me, who would look at this scar on my chest and not blink, but is that fair? No, it's not. John deserves better than this." She smoothed away the tears trailing down her cheeks. "I love him enough to let him find better."

"So that's what all the concern about scaring is about?" Angie crossed her arms, scoffing. "Do you know how ridiculous this is?"

"You can call it ridiculous, I disagree. You say the scarring will be minimal, okay, I can accept that, but minimal means there will be a scar."

Angie plopped her hands on her hips. "Do you realize he knows you were shot in the chest? He knows there will be some sort of scarring, and he's still here, and he's been here at your side for days. John only cares that you are alive. He won't give a damn about scarring or anything else."

"I know that, but I give a damn for him." Joss looked away from Angie, the doctor's intense gaze rattling her from her plan. "I know what I'm doing."

"The hell you do. I've not known John long, but he strikes me as a very impressive man. He's not very talkative, but very intense. I don't see him moving on once you jilt him. He's going to be devastated, and so will you."

"This isn't about me," Joss murmured.

"It's all about you, Joss." Angie sighed. "All I can say is I truly hope you don't do something you'll regret." She walked over to the supply cabinet and returned with some rubber gloves and an adhesive strip bandage. "I'm going to remove your IV." A couple of minutes and nasty sting later, the IV was removed. Angie applied the bandage and pulled off the gloves. "A menu will be brought to you in a bit for a late lunch, and I would like for you to finish the entire meal. Also, I'm going to prescribe you a stronger pain medicine." Joss started to protest. "Don't bother to argue, it's done."

"I don't get any say in my medical care?" Joss asked, not at all pleased with this change.

"You had your say. I gave you the mild pain medicine and it didn't help. Now, we're going to try my way. I suspect the reason your BP has been fluctuating is because you're in pain, as hypertension is not in your medical history. Also, with the way you've been thinking, I feel certain some sleep will help clear your mind."

"You're giving me pain medicine for thinking more about the man I love than myself? This decision hurts me, but it's the best thing for John. I'm not being selfish."

"Hmm. I'm going to let you think about that some more. As for the pain medicine, I'm giving it to you because you're in pain." Angie picked up the chart. "I'll be back in a few hours."

Joss kept her eyes on the door long after Angie had left. Her doctor had managed to make her feel worse than she already did about her decision to end things with John, and she didn't think that could be possible. Was Angie right? Was she being selfish? No, not selfish. Ending things with a man like John who loved her unconditionally wouldn't be selfish, just stupid. Could she really do this? The door opening pulled Joss from her thoughts and brought back the dread Angie and David's arrival had managed to suppress. The stricken look on Taylor's face and the tight grip John had on her son's shoulder only served to further exacerbate her anxiety. The possibility she didn't want to consider about her son had now become a probability she couldn't ignore.

John made his way to Joss's side and cupped her cheek. The simple touch sending shivers down her spine. "I'm sorry we were gone so long," he said, giving her lips a tender kiss. "We had a lot to talk about, didn't we, Taylor?"

The bliss and peace John's affection provided went up in smoke at the mention of her son's name. Joss turned all her attention to her baby boy, anticipating his response. "Yeah, we uh…" Taylor cleared his throat. "Mom, I uh, I have something to…"

"Stop, T," Joss said, annoyed with her son's hedging and ready for some answers. "Yes or no, did you get Lauren pregnant?"


End file.
